When You Least Expect It: A Continuation
by largeandincharge
Summary: (**THIS IS A SEQUEL TO THE STORY "WHEN YOU LEAST EXPECT IT"** You must first go and read that one, or I promise you, you will have no idea what is going on!) A continuation of the Martin and Anna story.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

It was Saturday afternoon, the first sunny day in weeks, and surgery hours had ended a few minutes before when I arrived at the grocer's and began to find the things on my list. I made a mental note to stop by the post office for some stamps, adding rhubarb yogurt—my favorite—to the basket. I could hear voices at the front of the store, discussing the very topic I had been listening to all morning in the surgery waiting area. Word apparently had gotten out in record time, even by Portwenn standards. _Annnddd here we go again_, I thought ruefully.

"Did you hear the news?"

"Yes, and I wasn't surprised…as soon as I saw that they were together last year, I knew it was doomed to fail."

"I think everyone who knows him thought the same. I know I did. She's better off to be rid of him, the tosser."

"I saw her in Mrs. Tishell's yesterday and she seemed well enough. Didn't seem too broken up about it, if you ask me."

"She has her pride, doesn't she…"

"Well I know several young men in the village who would give their right leg for the chance to go out with her, she's a lovely woman…"

"To be fair, there aren't many to choose from 'round 'ere with the sense God gave a sheep."

It was early spring, and it had been a long cold winter, so I suppose the folks in the village needed something to break up the monotony of grey skies and wind. I was secretly glad they had moved on from the topic of my own proposal to Martin that had happened on Christmas. Very few people could believe I was in it for the long haul; most of them thought I was completely out of my mind to choose to be with him. The bolder of the skeptics still had a pool going to see how much longer I would last before getting "fed up with the grumpy bugger."

Well, I didn't care what they thought. I was completely, unabashedly in love with Martin. Where they only saw his ill temper and peculiarities, I saw his tenderness and capacity to love. He truly was a good man and had proved to be an attentive partner in all aspects of my life. In the last year, he had filled me with happiness and pleasure and a contentment I had never felt before.

No, now the headline was the breakup of Louisa Glasson and Danny Steele, who were supposed to be getting married next month. I wasn't sure what exactly had happened, but Danny had abruptly moved back to London not two days before, leaving Louisa to face the busybodies of Portwenn. I felt a bit guilty to be so over the moon about beginning our wedding planning when she was having such a rotten time of it, but I wasn't going to let anything thing taint my excitement for my own engagement.

I smiled to myself and carried my shopping basket to the checkout counter where Caitlyn and Mrs. Maclean were gossiping, loudly enough for the entire store to hear. "Good morning, ladies," I said brightly.

"'Morning, Anna…I s'pose you've heard the news too, then, haven't you?" Mrs. Maclean replied conspiratorially.

"You mean about Louisa and Danny? Yes, I heard the engagement had been called off," I said, transferring my purchases to the counter. "It's a shame they couldn't work things out."

"Well, we both knew right away it wasn't going to last," Caitlyn said. "Didn't we, Janet?"

"Danny Steele has never been one for settling down. Always looking for next big thing. First it was renovating poor Muriel's house and now it's off to London on a whim. Didn't even ask Louisa what she thought of it. And he's left the house in a right state…just picked up and walked off without even finishing it."

"Mmm." I had learned very quickly upon arrival in Portwenn not to get involved in village gossip. Best just to keep my ears open and my mouth shut.

"Louisa is a good girl, but she may have to travel further afield to find a decent man who will treat her properly."

"Oh, I don't know…I think there are a few around here who might do fine. What about the new vicar?" Caitlyn suggested. Mrs. Maclean looked at her like she had three heads, and then giggled, "Remember when we thought she and the Doc were going to make a go of it?"

My ears pricked up. The Doc? Did she mean…

"What, she and Martin?" I exclaimed. "They were dating?" This was news to me.

Caitlyn looked at me sheepishly. "No, not really…I think they were going to try but it never seemed to work out."

"Like chalk and cheese," Mrs. Maclean agreed. "There was that kiss in the taxi though…" she added pointedly, a wicked gleam in her eye. I blinked at her.

"You're kidding! Martin and Louisa…kissed in a taxi…?" I repeated in surprise. Oh boy, he and I were going to have a chat when I got home. I wasn't really upset about it, but I did wonder why he hadn't ever mentioned it to me before. Then again, it's not exactly something that would organically come up in a conversation with Martin Ellingham.

"Janet!" Caitlyn admonished, blushing. "Oh dear, I hope we haven't gotten the Doc in trouble."

I laughed. "No, not at all," I said, and meant it. "I'm going to have fun asking him about it, though." I gave them a wink and a smile.

When I got back to the surgery, Martin was sitting at the kitchen table surrounded by springs and pieces and parts of the clock he had been working on. He looked up at me and his face softened…his version of a smile. I gave him a kiss and asked, "how's it going?"

"Nearly there," he answered. "Just have to get it all put back together, but it's running properly again."

"Well done. Oh, I bought a coley…I thought we could have it for supper tonight." I began to put the groceries away.

"Mmm. Yes, good."

"Also, when were you going to tell me you kissed Louisa Glasson in a taxi?" I peered at him sideways to witness the reaction to my question, and I wasn't disappointed. His eyes got huge, and his mouth dropped open…it was quite comical.

"What?!" He exclaimed, whipping his head around to stare at me. "I didn't! I never…." When he saw me laughing, he paused. "What on earth are you talking about?"

I went and sat down in a chair beside him at the table. "Oh, the ladies in the shop were discussing Louisa and Danny breaking up, and they happened to mention that you and she were almost an item, and there was a kiss in a taxi...were you going to mention any of this to me at any point?" I asked innocently.

He blushed furiously and cleared his throat. "Nothing to mention…that's the extent of it," he answered gruffly.

"So it's true? You and Louisa dated?"

"No!" he exclaimed, exasperated. "It wasn't like that at all. We…uh…thought maybe, but it never…"

"I wouldn't blame you if you had, Martin…she is very smart, and beautiful," I told him.

"Yes, but she…we didn't…we weren't well suited. And then…" he looked down, swallowed. "Then you came in for a job interview."

I smiled, taking his hand. "Yes…and I guess the rest is history."

He gazed at me with that soft expression in his eyes, and then he kissed me, long and slow. Even though I was sitting down, my knees felt weak. "Yes, the rest is history," he said softly.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Later that evening, after Martin prepared our dinner of fish and vegetables, we sat at the table discussing the wedding. Even though it had been nearly three months since he proposed, we hadn't really been in a hurry to figure out the logistics of it; instead, we were spending time just enjoying being with each other. Since Martin had asked me to marry him and I had said yes, he had a sort of calm confidence about him where once there had been an underlying fear of me leaving. It was like he had finally come to the conclusion that we were really a proper couple and all the countless times I had told him I loved him, I was indeed telling the truth. It made me love him all the more to see him so content.

"I guess you know that my first choice would be to have the wedding in Virginia," I told him as we ate our meal. "I mean, my whole family is there…and besides Joan, all you have are your parents, whom I assume won't be invited."

He frowned disdainfully. "You assume correctly," he answered. "I can't begin to imagine why they would want to be there in the first place."

"Right. There is just one issue about having it back at home—there is pretty much no way we can keep it a small ceremony. As soon as everyone in town finds out I'm getting married, they will show up in droves. My family knows virtually every person there and they are all going to expect to be invited."

I could tell from the look on his face that Martin was mortified at the thought of getting married in front of a church full of complete strangers. I couldn't force him to go through that…to be honest,_ I_ didn't particularly want that for my wedding, either.

"So I think flying my family here would be a smarter idea," I went on. He was visibly relieved.

"I will do whatever will make you happy, of course…but I would much rather have the wedding here as well," he said. "I'm sure we will be able to find a church in the area that would be suitable for the ceremony."

"I agree. But that brings us to conundrum number two," I took a bite of fish and washed it down with a sip of water. "Everyone in Portwenn will want to be at the wedding too."

Martin blinked at me. "Why?" he asked, genuinely curious.

"Because you're the Doc! And you're marrying your American receptionist."

"That doesn't make any difference!" he argued. "I'm not exactly a well-loved member of the village…most of them think I'm a complete tosser, or have you forgotten?"

I rolled my eyes. "They may say that, but you are a respected man. They all come to you because they know you are an excellent doctor and will get to the root of their problems…even though you are a grouch." He scowled, and I laughed. "Trust me, they are all going to want to be there. As a matter of fact, I think Bert is taking bets on whether or not I show up at the altar…so some of them will come for that reason alone."

"Bert Large should mind his own bloody business!" Martin sputtered in protest.

"Yes, probably," I agreed amiably. "The point is, a traditional church wedding here isn't something either one of us particularly want."

"Not particularly, no."

"So I propose that we find a vicar, fly my parents and brother over, and have a quiet ceremony somewhere with just us…like in Joan's gazebo, maybe. We don't have to make it a big deal, just some flowers from her garden and the view of the sea…and _us_." I smiled at him and reached for his hand.

Martin's eyes softened. "Yes…that sounds…lovely. Perfect, actually."

"I'm glad you agree," I told him. "I think it will be beautiful, especially if we wait until it gets warmer…like maybe in July?"

"That gives us a little over three months; are you sure that's enough time?"

I thought a minute. I would need some sort of dress, but I didn't want anything fancy. We'd have to find a vicar. I suppose we would have to come up with some sort of food, and a small cake (even though I knew Martin wouldn't eat any), and flowers shouldn't be a problem. "I think we can get it all done in three months. I just want something simple and sweet."

It was my one regret that I had already had my big formal wedding, but had wasted it on someone who turned out to be a terrible human being. I wished I had met Martin sooner, so I hadn't had to go through all the heartbreak that man had caused.

As we were cleaning up the kitchen, Martin cleared his throat. "I um, have something for you," he said shyly. He reached into his pocket and took out a small box wrapped in a bow. "I know it will probably have to be made the proper size. It was my grandmother's." He opened the box and took out a ring, handing it to me.

"Wait, you have to do it properly!" I exclaimed. I held out my left hand, and after a look of confusion, he slid the ring onto my finger. It was several sizes too big, but it was absolutely beautiful…a small diamond flanked by two triangular emeralds in an Edwardian style. It couldn't have been more perfect if I had picked it myself.

"Oh Martin, I love it! It's just gorgeous," I breathed, wrapping my arms around his neck and kissing him. I could feel his mouth curl into a smile against my own, and I held him tighter, stroking the soft hair at the nape of his neck.

"You really like it?" he asked uncertainly. "Joan suggested maybe we take it to a jeweler and have it made into a more modern style…"

"Absolutely not! It's better than I could have ever imagined. Look, doesn't it look perfect?" I held out my hand to show him how the ring twinkled on my finger. "I wouldn't dare change it." I kissed him again, and this time Martin's hands came to cup my face, his thumbs softly caressing my cheekbones. He knew I loved it when he did that, like he was holding something rare and precious. Oh, how I loved this man.

"I'm glad you like it," he said softly, and tucked a curl behind my ear.

As soon as my eyes opened on Sunday morning, I knew something was off. Martin was already in the shower (even on the days the surgery was closed, he was still an early riser) but his absence in the bed wasn't the problem. It was…what? Everything smelled wrong—everything smelled really awful, to be honest. Ugh, had Martin bought new soap or something? Or was it the sheets…I was sure I had picked up the same detergent as usual. For whatever reason, though, the room certainly reeked.

I wrinkled my nose and pushed the duvet off me, sitting up on the edge of the bed. Whoa, hold on. The room suddenly tilted and spun, as if I had stepped aboard one of the fishing boats at the plat. As my stomach lurched, I bolted toward the bathroom door. I hoped Martin hadn't locked it or else scrubbing the floor boards would be first on the day's agenda.

I burst in just as he was turning off the water. "What are you…?" he began to protest, but I was already kneeling on the floor, throwing up what felt like my spleen into the toilet. I was vaguely aware of him standing there, naked and dripping wet, as I continued to heave. The scent of soap or shampoo or both was making the nausea worse.

"Are you all right?" Martin asked with concern as he wrapped a towel around his waist.

I peered up at him, eyes and nose streaming. "I've been better," I croaked, with a bit more sarcasm than I intended. "Could you open the window? Please?"

He blinked at me. "Anna, it's freezing out there…" he answered, clearly confused. I managed to look at him pleadingly before I was off again. There was nothing left to get rid of, but my stomach didn't seem to care about that detail. Martin dutifully opened the window and quickly finished drying off, slipping on the robe he kept hanging on the back of the door.

A steady stream of frosty air came blowing through the window, and the cloying scent began to dissipate. I took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. Just as quickly as it had hit me, my nausea had all but disappeared. I shakily got to my feet, wiped my eyes, and blew my nose.

"Are you all right?" Martin asked again, looking a bit worried. He reached out and gently touched my forehead with the back of his fingers. "You don't feel feverish…"

I took another deep breath and shook my head. "No, I think I'm okay now. That was weird, it just hit me all of a sudden…do you think it could have been something I ate last night?" Even as I said it, I knew that wasn't the cause; I had had food poisoning before, and it had caused stomach pain and had gone on for what seemed like forever. This was here and gone in less than fifteen minutes—I felt perfectly fine now. Actually, I was suddenly starving.

"Hmm…perhaps you've picked up a virus," he frowned slightly. "In any case, I don't think you should be going out with Aunty Joan today, do you?" She and I had been planning to go on a wedding dress scouting expedition later that day.

"I honestly feel okay now; I just need a little breakfast."

He looked at me skeptically. "I'd really rather you stay here where I can keep an eye on you," he persisted.

I pushed the window closed and turned to look up at him. "No, Martin…I appreciate that you are concerned, but I promise I feel fine. I'll take it easy today with Joan, though, and if I start to feel bad again I will come right home. Deal?" He didn't look convinced, but at least he decided not to keep arguing the point. He followed me out of the bathroom and stood observing as I tugged on my pajama pants and pulled my hair into some semblance of a ponytail.

"There is something you can do for me, actually," I said after I had wrapped my arms around his waist and leaned against his warm body. It was that smell again…I wrinkled my nose with disgust.

"Of course," he answered, holding me close.

"Please, can you throw away your soap? It smells really awful." My stomach was getting queasy again, and I had to back away from him. He looked at me in confusion.

"It's the same soap I've used for years," he protested. "Quite literally since I was about ten."

"Oh…" Huh. Well, that was weird. "Maybe they've changed the formula or something? All I know is it's making me really nauseous for some reason…maybe you could run down to Mrs. Tishell's today and get something with no scent? I'm sorry, love; I know I'm a pain," I added.

"Of course you aren't, don't be silly," he answered. "I will see to it this afternoon, all right?" I could tell by his expression that he was still perplexed, and a little worried. I smiled up at him and gave him a quick peck on the cheek, hoping that would convince him everything was just fine.

"Right then…time for breakfast!" I said brightly. The sooner the better, I thought-I was becoming more ravenous by the second.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Joan and I had become very close, since even before Martin and I became a couple. I had liked her from the moment we met; she was the perfect combination of caring warmth and no-nonsense. She loved Martin fiercely, but she didn't cut him any slack when it came to his idiosyncrasies. She had no qualms about telling him off for being rude, which I had witnessed myself on numerous occasions. Martin sometimes said things to me that were completely inappropriate, like the time he mentioned that my perfume smelled faintly urine-like and that it was possibly because of my pre-menstrual hormones. I just laughed and rolled my eyes, but I thought Joan was going to turn him over her knee, she was so incensed.

"What is the matter with you, Marty?!" she exclaimed.

"What do you mean?" He genuinely had no idea.

"You can't say something like that to your girlfriend, it's completely rude!"

"Why is it rude? It's an observation."

"You just told Anna she smelled like urine…you don't think that's rude?"

At this point, I was nearly howling with laughter. I appreciated her sticking up for me, but at this point, I knew Martin well enough to know he hadn't meant it that way.

"I didn't say that, I said the pheromones were faintly urine-_like_," he argued. "I didn't say it was bad!"

I was really looking forward to spending the day with Joan, especially to let her know Martin had given me the ring and we had finally set a date for the wedding: July 12. I knew she would love the idea of using her gazebo for the ceremony. I couldn't wait until Mom and Granny got here so they could all meet each other.

I kissed Martin goodbye later that morning and got in my car to head toward the farm, but I only made it about half way before another wave of nausea hit me and I had to pull over to the side of the road. _Well, so much for breakfast_, I thought to myself as I leaned against the car and took a few deep breaths. What in the world was going on? Maybe I had actually come down with something after all. If that was the case, I certainly didn't want to give it to Joan. I decided to call her and let her know I was going to take a raincheck on the shopping and go back to the surgery to lie down.

"I'm so disappointed in myself, I was really looking forward to going with you," I told her.

"I'm sorry you're not feeling well…of course I understand," she said. "I know Martin will take good care of you though, in case you have a bug of some sort. Just try to get some rest and give me a call later."

I made it all the way to the front steps outside of the surgery before I was throwing up again. I shakily made my way around to the kitchen door and let myself in. Martin was walking in from the living room and looked at me in surprise.

"I think I'm sick," I told him pitifully. His surprise turned to concern, and he felt my forehead.

"Have you vomited again?" he asked, getting a glass from the cupboard and filling it with water. He handed it to me and I took a sip.

"Twice," I admitted. "I feel okay right now, but I think I might go upstairs and lie down for a while."

"Can I do anything for you?" Martin asked gently. I shook my head and gave him a hug, and it just felt good to have his arms around me. "I will be up to check on you in a little while. Try to drink some more water."

As I laid there trying to stop the room from spinning, there was a thought niggling me at the back of my brain. What if this wasn't just a virus? What if…but no. It couldn't be that.

But there was the sudden aversion to the scent of Martin's soap. There was the queasiness and dizziness at odd times of the day.

But…it couldn't be, though…could it?

This was ridiculous. I sat up gingerly and put my feet on the floor, and was satisfied that the nausea had abated enough for me to stand up. I went down the stairs and through the living area into the kitchen, where Martin was drinking coffee and watching something on his laptop. He was so engrossed he didn't even really notice I was there, which was good…I didn't want to talk just then. I was on a mission to end this once and for all.

I opened the door to the consulting room and went straight to the cupboard that held the pregnancy test kits. I had just pocketed one when Martin came in behind me, and I jumped.

"What are you doing out of bed?" he asked concernedly. "You should be resting." He felt my forehead for the third time that morning.

"Oh…I uh, was looking for a Bandaid. Er…plaster. I have a hangnail." I grabbed one quickly from the drawer by the sink and held it up to him as proof. "I'm going back upstairs right now."

"How are you feeling? Any nausea or vomiting?" he asked, clearly in doctor mode.

"I'm okay, really…please don't fuss." I kissed him on the cheek and high-tailed it out of there before he could ask more questions.

In the bathroom with the door locked, I sat down and followed the directions on the box. Before I even had a chance to set the test on the edge of the sink, two pink lines emerged, bright and clear, in the little window. There was no question what the results were.

Two. Two lines. I was most definitely pregnant.

And that's when the panic set in.

All of the memories of my first pregnancy came flooding back to me, from the moment I had taken that test, to the first flutter of movement inside me that felt like tiny bursting bubbles, to the terror of going into labor so early and the absolute devastation of holding my dying baby in my arms…it hit me so hard, it almost felt as if I had been physically slapped. I didn't think I was prepared for the possibility of that happening again. Because it very well could…I could just as easily lose this baby too.

And what was Martin going to say…would he be happy? He had said so many times that he thought he would be a terrible father, but I think what he really meant was he was _afraid_ he would be-that he would turn out to be like his own father. I knew there was no chance of that at all, but he was still harboring so much hurt from his upbringing. Would he still want to be with me though this…or would it be too much for him? What if he decided he wasn't able to handle it?

Oh god. I had to get out of there. I couldn't tell him yet…I had to have some time to think.

I tripped down the stairs in a daze and went to the kitchen to fill a bottle with water. Martin was talking to me, but it took me a minute for it to register.

"Anna? I said, what are you doing? Are you all right?" He touched my arm, momentarily bringing me back to my senses.

I blinked. "I'm fine…I just need to get some fresh air. I'm going to go for a walk."

"Are you sure that's a good idea? You've been vomiting all day and you look very pale…I think it would be best if…" he began, but I cut him off.

"I feel fine now! I am just going for a walk. I won't be gone long, okay? I have my phone and I'll call you if I need you, but please just stop fussing over me!" It had come out a lot harsher than I had intended, and Martin was taken aback by the vehemence in my voice. I immediately felt guilty for lashing out at him, but I had to get out of there before I burst into tears. I grabbed my coat and quickly escaped through the back door.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

There is a bench on a hill above the village with a lovely view of the harbor, and that is where my feet took me. There weren't many tourists this time of year so I was fairly sure I would be alone up there. I just needed a while to gather my thoughts and have a good cry; I couldn't seem to stop the tears from coming. There were so many mixed emotions swirling around inside me, and none of them would land for more than a few seconds before another would take its place. The one that landed most, though, was utter fear.

My first pregnancy had been a lonely one; my husband was away a lot for work (or so he told me), and he wasn't exactly emotionally available when he was at home. When I went into labor so early and couldn't reach him on the phone, I knew our marriage was in serious trouble…finding out he was with his girlfriend while our child was clinging to life was the final straw. I had lost a child and a husband on the same day.

I knew Martin loved me; there was no question of that. I also knew the idea of being a father terrified him. We had discussed having children and his answer was "I will do whatever will make you happy"...which was all well and good, but was that enough? I wanted him to be happy too, for him to be excited for this baby and the prospect of raising a child with me. I wanted him to want it too, not just do something because I wanted it. Above all, I needed to know a hundred percent that he would stay with me once the baby came. I thought he would…but was I completely sure? If I lost him too, the only man I had ever considered the love of my life, I didn't know how I would cope.

Underneath it all, though, I had begun to feel a tiny seed of hope. There was a baby, no bigger than a speck, growing inside me…a baby made out of a tiny part of myself and Martin, formed during an act of complete love for each other. Assuming everything went as planned and the little speck stayed where it belonged for the next seven months or so, we were going to have a child. I couldn't help but allow myself to feel excitement and blissful happiness.

As I sat there contemplating the situation, a figure wearing sweatpants and a tee shirt with the word "police" on it jogged up the hill. I didn't recognize the man, and I expected him to keep on jogging and pass me by; instead, he slowed and came right up beside the bench where I was sitting. He was muscular and handsome, with close cropped hair and kind eyes.

"Hello," I said politely, hoping he didn't notice how much I had been crying.

"Joe Penhale," he introduced himself, holding out his hand. "I'm just out getting a lay of the land…are you all right?"

"Anna Harper. Yes, I'm fine, thank you," I answered. Getting a lay of the land? What the heck did that mean? "Are you here on holiday?" I asked.

He chuckled. "No, I'm the new PC in town…I start next week," he answered.

This was a surprise. I had seen Mark Mylow a few weeks previously and he hadn't mentioned he was leaving Portwenn. "What's happened to PC Mylow?"

"Promoted to Sergeant…going to be in Bristol now," he told me. "So I'm here learning the ropes."

Well, good for Mark. He deserved some good luck. "I see…well, welcome to Portwenn, Mr. Penhale," I said. I was sort of hoping that would be the end of our conversation.

"You're an American." It seemed that this detail just occurred to him. "So you aren't a native, then? Are you here visiting?"

"No, I live here. I work at the receptionist for the local GP, Doctor Ellingham."

The name seemed to be familiar to him. "Ah, yes…PC Mylow's good friend. He's mentioned the Doc."

I tried not to smile at his statement. Oh, Mark, bless his heart. He tried so hard to get Martin to be friends with him. "Er, yes…that's right."

The conversation seemed to fizzle out then, and Joe Penhale stood looking out over the village for a few awkward seconds. "Well, I best be going…still want to get another mile in," he finally said. "Just wanted to stop and make sure you were okay. I thought you were crying."

"Thank you, that's very nice of you. I was crying, but I'm going to be okay," I assured him. He studied me for a second, gave me a little salute, and was on his way.

I had been sitting on he hill for nearly an hour when Martin came walking up the hill toward me, wearing an expression of grim determination. When he got a few feet away, though, he hesitated, seeming to lose some of his resolve.

"Hello," he said softly.

"Hi." I gestured for him to sit down next to me. I immediately moved closer and put my head on his shoulder. We sat that way in silence for a few minutes, looking out toward the village. Finally, he cleared his throat.

"Is it…something I've done?" he asked quietly.

"What?"

"You've been…upset. Is it because of me?"

I scooted closer and put my arm over his waist. "No…you've been just fine," I answered. "I'm sorry you've felt that way."

"Then what…?"

I took a deep breath. "There's something I need to tell you, and I'm just been…scared, I guess."

"Scared of what?" He tilted my face up to look at him. I could feel the ache of tears forming in my eyes.

"I'm afraid if I say it out loud, something bad will happen. If I say it, it won't be true anymore," my voice broke. His face was a mixture of concern and alarm, and I felt stupid for being so dramatic…but some superstitious part hidden away inside me believed every word of it. I imagined the words in the air, like a banner on the back of an airplane; one by one they disappeared in a puff of vapor, the final letter erasing the tiny being forming in my womb.

"Anna, what is it? Please tell me." He tenderly used his thumb to brush away a tear that had spilled onto my cheek. His loving gesture just made the tears come faster.

"Martin…it's…I'm pregnant," I whispered. There, it was out. I couldn't take the words back. Martin's eyes grew wide and the color drained from his face.

"Pregnant…? But how…you were…" he stammered. His expression would have made me laugh under different circumstances. Right now, though, I was too queasy with anxiety and tension to see much humor in it.

"I know, but for whatever reason, it didn't work. It happens."

"Yes," he said faintly. "Yes, I know it's possible…" He was still very pale. We sat staring at each other for what felt like a long time. I was starting to worry-was he ever going to speak?

"Say something," I whispered. I laid my palm on his cheek, and he instinctively leaned into it. "What are you thinking?"

"How…um…far along are you?" His voice was so soft, so tender then, and it made my heart constrict.

"I'm not sure…seven or eight weeks, maybe?" He slowly moved his hand to rest on my still-flat belly, and I saw the moment when the look in his eyes changed from shock to wonder, and finally to pure, palpable love. I knew then that I had had nothing to worry about; Martin would undoubtedly be there with me through it all. I could feel tears welling in my eyes again. I placed my hand on top of his, and he met my gaze.

"God, I have never seen you look so beautiful," he breathed. He kissed me very gently, and pulled me into his arms where he held me for a very long time.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

"What if something happens to our baby, Martin?" I said after a few moments in Martin's arms. I sniffed and tried to hold back the tears. "I don't think I can do this…"

"Shh," he answered gently. "First thing in the morning, I am going to research obstetricians who handle high risk pregnancies. I know of several in the area who are very good. I will see to it that you and the baby have the best care available. We will take every precaution."

"And what about you? Are you okay with this? I know it's a surprise and I know you weren't very keen on…"

"It is a surprise, yes," he interrupted quietly. "But I know you will be a lovely mother. As for myself...I suppose that remains to be seen. I don't want to make the same mistakes as my own father. I would very much like it if you would help me become a better father than he was."

Martin had told me of some of the cruelties he had endured as a child. He was beaten with belts. He was locked in the cupboard under the stairs when he had done something his mother had deemed "bad." He was practically abandoned at boarding school when he was far too young to be away from home alone. My heart ached for that little boy that had never been given a chance of a normal childhood.

I cupped his cheek with my hand. "You are nothing like him, Martin. You are a good man with a good heart and the capacity to love and nurture, which are all things he lacks. You are going to be wonderful, I know you are." When I smiled up at him, he kissed me, and I began to feel the fear subside a little. This was nothing like the last time. I wasn't going to be alone; I would have him with me, and together we would get through whatever this pregnancy had in store.

It was getting cold. After a few more minutes, we made our way back down the hill, hand in hand. "We should really tell Joan right away, don't you think?" I said. "I don't want her to accidentally hear it through the grapevine."

"That would infer we are going to be telling everyone else immediately," Martin answered dubiously.

"Hmm…well, I think I do want to keep it a bit of a secret for a while, just in case…" I trailed off. I didn't want to finish the thought, but Martin understood what I meant.

"I really don't think we have anything to worry about…but yes, maybe we could keep it between us for a bit."

"Us and Joan."

He sighed. "Yes, I suppose so. Would you like me to take you over to the farm now?" Martin offered. I squeezed his hand and smiled up at him.

"Yes, please, if you wouldn't mind."

"Mmm."

A little while later, Martin parked the Lexus in front of the farmhouse, and Joan met us at the door.

"What are you two doing here? Anna, I thought you weren't feeling well?" she asked, confused. Martin and I looked at each other, and he had that soft look in his eyes that was very much like smiling. She ushered us into the kitchen, where she was cooking something that smelled delicious. I was starving again.

"I feel better at the moment. And we have some…news," I told her, lifting the lid on one of the pots on the stove and breathing deeply. Chicken soup, yum. "This smells amazing."

"Have some if you like, there's plenty. Martin, you too. Now, what's your news?" She took some bowls down from the cabinet and put them on the table. Joan is usually very astute, and can put two and two together like no other person I knew, but this time I could tell she had absolutely no inkling as to what I was about to tell her.

"Well…" I looked at Martin again, and he nodded. "It seems your nephew has gone and gotten me pregnant." Joan's mouth dropped open, and the handful of spoons she was holding hit the floor in a loud clatter.

"Pregnant?!" she squeaked, looking between the two of us incredulously. I nodded, laughing, and Martin blushed. She stood that way for a few seconds, mouth agape, and then suddenly grabbed me into a crushing hug. "Oh, this is wonderful news! Congratulations!" When she was finished with me, she hugged Martin just as hard. He looked a bit embarrassed, but I could tell he was pleased.

"How far along are you? When are you due? Oh, you have to tell me everything!" Joan exclaimed as we sat down to our impromptu dinner. "I should have known something was going on, since you seemed to have made a miraculous recovery from your illness today."

"Yes, the funny tummy was one reason I decided to take the test today. I knew it wasn't normal to be throwing up one minute eating everything in the refrigerator the next," I laughed.

"We won't know how far the pregnancy has progressed until we make an appointment to see a doctor, and of course we need to find one that specializes in high risk pregnancies," Martin added.

Joan seemed to remember then that this wasn't the first time I had been pregnant, and she looked at us worriedly. "Oh…of course. Do you think that is warranted this time, Martin?"

"Anna is very healthy, and there is no reason to assume that there will be complications, but we want to make sure we do everything possible to assure that she and the baby stay safe and in good health throughout," he told her.

"That's why we want to keep the news under wraps for a while," I said. "Just in case. We will know more soon, and I will find out when the baby is due. Then we can go from there."

Joan nodded. "Well, no need to worry about me…my lips are sealed. I'm just thrilled you told me."

I reached over and squeezed her hand. "Of course we couldn't keep this from you, you are our family!" I could see there were tears in her eyes.

"Well, I appreciate it. And you know how much I love you both…and the baby too."

I smiled. "We love you too. Now the next thing we'll have to figure out is what the baby will call you. We could keep Aunty Joan, of course…but what would you say to being called 'Nana'?"


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

The next morning bright and early, Martin woke me with a tray of lightly buttered toast and tea. "I want you to have this before you get out of bed this morning," he instructed. "It will help with the nausea." He placed the tray on the bedside table. I gazed up at him, admiring my soon-to-be husband. He looked so sexy standing there in his crisp white shirt and tie, I couldn't help but have other things on my mind.

"I'd much rather you get naked so I can have _you_ before I get out of bed," I answered suggestively. The tips of his ears turned pink, and I grabbed his tie to pull his face toward mine. He allowed me to kiss him deeply before backing away.

"A very tempting proposal, but surgery opens in a few minutes," he replied.

"We can be very quick…" I wheedled, even though that wasn't exactly what I wanted. I craved long, slow lovemaking that would exhaust both of us and cause us to be very late indeed. A quickie would certainly do in a pinch, though. Arousal hummed through me, and I pulled him down for another kiss, which soon turned into something hot and carnal.

"Anna, we can't…" Martin protested, but even as he said the words he was unbuckling his belt. We were both undressed in a flash; I purred at the feeling of his skin on mine, his hands at once tender and firm as they held my body to him. His hot mouth on my breast nearly pushed me over the edge, and soon both of us were left panting and sated. I laid my head on his chest, listening to the hammering of his heart.

"Yes, I much prefer that to toast and tea," I murmured, sighing.

"Mmm. Yes. But now we really have to hurry."

"Mornin', Anna!" It was later that morning, and Mark Mylow had just come through the front door of the surgery.

"Good morning…I hear congratulations are in order, Sergeant Mylow!" I told him. He smiled, blushing. "We're going to miss you around here."

"Thank you; I'll miss everyone here as well. But how did you hear? That's what I came in to tell everyone."

"I met your replacement yesterday afternoon while he was out jogging."

"Ah, right…he likes to keep fit. Seems a nice enough bloke; I think he will do fine here in Portwenn." He glanced in the direction of the consulting room door. "Do you think I could have a word with the Doc? It'll only take a minute. I'm planning to have a little going-away wilderness weekend, just us men. I wanted to invite him…Al is going, as well."

_Good luck with that, Mark_, I thought to myself. I looked down at the schedule. "Yes, his next patient isn't due for another fifteen minutes. You can go on through."

Poor Mark. He had tried on countless occasions to get Martin to go have a drink with him at the Crab, or go fishing with him, or just spend some time with him in general. He wanted so badly for them to be best friends, even though Martin had absolutely no time for him on a good day and on a bad day was outright rude to him. It didn't seem to affect Mark in the slightest; he still tried time and time again. I just hoped Martin would let him down gently this time.

"Absolutely ridiculous!" Martin exclaimed when we had locked up for lunch. "Inviting me to go camping…Mylow is an imbecile."

"Oh, don't be so hard on him. He admires you so much, Martin; he just wanted his best friend to be with him on his wilderness weekend," I teased. Martin grumbled.

"Very funny. No doubt I will end up out there anyway when one of them ends up getting hypothermia or steps in a trap and breaks a leg," he said. I had to admit, it did sound like a distinct possibility.

So far that day, my nausea had been nearly nonexistent, and since Martin had a light afternoon of appointments, I asked him if it would be okay if I picked up Joan and tried to go look at some wedding dresses. "It's already going to be hard enough finding a dress in such a short amount of time, not to mention one that will fit me by the middle of July."

When I called Joan, though, she had other plans. "I'm not able to go today; one of my ewes is ready to give birth at any moment. But I'm cooking up a surprise for you for when we do go find a dress. Give me a few days to plan and I will let you know the details." Admittedly, I was a little disappointed that we would have more of a delay, but I agreed to wait until she had her plans finalized.

Martin cleared his throat. "I'm sure whatever you wear will be…adequate," he told me. I laughed.

"Thank you, I guess?" I said. He tried again, laying his napkin beside his empty plate.

"What I mean is, you will um…look beautiful no matter what you wear."

I moved to his side of the table and sat down on his lap. "Even though I might be the size of a small country by then? With a belly out to here?" I said dubiously, cupping my hands a foot in front of me.

"You always look beautiful," he replied simply. I touched my forehead to his and kissed him on the nose, which I knew he thought was silly, but tolerated just for me. "I love you," I told him. He kissed me in response.

"I did some research this morning on obstetricians, and I have made an appointment for you with Dr. Elizabeth Hall in Truro on Friday," he changed the subject. "She comes very highly recommended. I spoke to her this morning and let her know your history."

I felt an anxious gnawing at the pit of my stomach. I was glad Martin had made an appointment so soon; I wanted to know one way or another if there was any reason I needed to be concerned about the baby. With my first pregnancy, there had been no indication that anything could be wrong except a slightly elevated blood pressure. When I was examined after such an early delivery, my doctor said he could find no reason why I couldn't have any more children, and said that sometimes these things just happen. I hated that my body had betrayed me, how powerless I felt when there was absolutely nothing I could do to stop it.

"Thank you," I told Martin. "And you'll come with me to the appointment, won't you?"

He blinked at me. "Of course I will…did you think I wouldn't?"

"We'll have to cancel your appointments for Friday afternoon," I reminded him.

"Anna, you and our child are the most important things to me…much more important than rescheduling a few appointments. Of _course_ I will be going with you."

His words brought tears to my eyes, and I cuddled closer to him. How could I have possibly thought this extraordinary man wouldn't want to stay with me through this?


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

By the time Friday rolled around, I was a bundle of nerves in anticipation of what the doctor would tell us. As Martin kept reassuring me, there was more than likely nothing to be worried about, but I was anxious anyway. Part of it, admittedly, was excitement; at this appointment, in the ultrasound, we would get to see our baby for the first time.

We had cheated a little bit when it came to hearing the heartbeat. I didn't think I could wait nearly a week, and I didn't have to try hard to convince Martin to use the surgery's fetal heartbeat monitor. We waited until surgery hours were very much over and the door was firmly locked before I hopped up onto the consulting room table.

"Lie down and undo the top button of your jeans," Martin instructed, using his doctor voice. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes and did as I was told. He gently pulled the waistband down a bit and placed the wand low on my belly, moving it around slowly. Suddenly, the quick, whooshing sound of the heartbeat filled the room. He and I locked eyes, and I could see there were tears glistening in his. I could feel my eyes fill as well as we remained in silence, just listening.

"It sounds good," I said softly, finally breaking the silence.

"Yes," Martin agreed gruffly. "One hundred fifty beats per minute, and strong. Perfect."

"Perfect." I beamed at him, tears streaming down my cheeks; he leaned down and gave me a long, sweet kiss, his hand tenderly resting on my belly.

Dr. Hall was pleasant and no-nonsense, only about five feet tall with short auburn hair and bright blue eyes. After doing a thorough examination and ultrasound, she was able to put our minds at ease.

"Everything looks just as it should, Anna," she said. "You are in perfect health; the baby's heart rate is excellent, and the ultrasound shows nothing out of the ordinary. As far as I can see at this stage, there is no indication that you can't carry this baby to full term. From my calculation, your due date will be around September 15th."

"Do you think progesterone treatment is warranted in this situation?" Martin asked. _Always the doctor_, I thought, smiling to myself.

"I don't think it's necessary, no. Her cervix is normal. If she had had several premature deliveries, then I would definitely explore that as an option, but since there was only one, I think we can proceed without it."

"If you are sure, then I trust your judgement." High praise, coming from my husband.

Joan called my cell as we were driving home. "All right, I have everything sorted for dress shopping tomorrow afternoon," she told me brusquely.

"Oh, great! Surgery hours end at noon, so I will be ready to go soon after that. Now, am I allowed to know what you have planned, or are you going to make me wait?" I answered.

"You'll have to wait a little while longer; I want it to be a total surprise!" When I whined in protest, she added, "Now, none of that…it will be worth the wait, I promise!"

I hung up with Joan and looked over at Martin. "Are you in on this?" I asked him.

His face colored. "I have no idea what you're talking about," he replied.

I laughed. "Right…very convincing. Can you just give me a little tiny hint?"

He shook his head vehemently. "Absolutely not. Joan will murder me."

Early the next morning, Al Large came into the surgery for a routine blood pressure check. When I asked how he was doing, he gave me a look that told me maybe I shouldn't have asked.

"In about an hour, I will be going into the woods with Mark Mylow for a lad's camping weekend," he answered darkly. "So, about as well as could be expected, you could say."

I winced. "Oh dear. Well, look on the bright side; you may end up having a lovely time. The weather is supposed to be good, at least."

"Did I mention the new PC might be coming along as well?"

"Is that…a bad thing?" I asked. He hadn't seemed like such a bad guy when I met him.

"Well, he managed to crash the police jeep into the side of Jake Abbott's chicken coop yesterday, so I don't know…you tell me."

"You're kidding!"

"I plan to have the Doc on speed dial, just in case."

"Hmm. Might not be a bad idea," I laughed.

After all the patients had been seen and the surgery was locked up for the day, I ate a quick bite of lunch with Martin in the kitchen, and then gave him a hug and kiss before heading over to the farm to pick up Joan.

"We shouldn't be too late. What are your plans for the day?" I asked him.

"None to speak of; I have some reading to catch up on, so maybe I'll do that," Martin answered with his arms around me. I laid my head against his chest and held him tightly.

"Well, I hope you have a good afternoon. I'll miss you, but I know you don't want to spend the day watching me try on dresses."

"Mmm. Just promise me you'll take it easy; if you get fatigued or nauseous, cut the shopping short and go again another day," he instructed.

"Yes, doctor." He gave me a withering look as I stood on tiptoe to kiss his lips.

It was a rainy, chilly afternoon, but I was excited to finally be getting something done in regards to the wedding. Joan had loved the idea of having it in her gazebo (had nearly cried when I suggested it), and was already planning a menu for the dinner she offered to prepare for all of us. I knew there were plenty of beautiful flowers that would be blooming in her garden when the time came, and since we were keeping it virtually a secret, there was no reason to order formal invitations. This may just be the least stressful wedding in the history of weddings, I thought.

The only regret I had was how far away Mom and Granny were, and how much I would have liked for them to see me try on dresses. I loved living in Cornwall, but there were days when I just ached to see my family. We had been waiting until after the doctor's appointment to let them know about the baby, and now I just wished I was able to tell them in person. I would have to settle for a Skype call…which was better than just a regular phone call, but still wasn't quite the same.

I pulled up to the farm and grabbed my umbrella before getting out of the car in a sudden deluge of pouring rain. As I was walking up to the door, there was a flurry of activity inside the kitchen, the curtain fluttering closed quickly. It looked like Joan wasn't alone…who could she have in there with her? I opened the door and suddenly stood face to face with my own mother. I could hardly believe it, and almost tripped on the doorframe in my haste to get to her.

"Mom!" I exclaimed, throwing my arms around her and bursting into tears. How had Joan managed to get her here without me knowing?

"Surprise!" she exclaimed, hugging me ferociously. "Oh, it's so good to see you, honey!"

Joan stood against the kitchen counter, smiling from ear to ear. "I was afraid Martin was going to let the cat out of the bag before we could get her here, but I can see he was able to keep the secret."

"I had absolutely no idea!" I said incredulously.

"It was a spur of the moment thought, and when I told Marty about it, he worked out all of the details for me," she explained.

"I pulled into Bodmin station yesterday afternoon and Joan picked me up. Granny really would have loved to come too, but she said she didn't think her old bones would let her come now and still be able to be here in July for the wedding." Mom finished.

"Aww, I'll miss her. But I understand…that's a long trip for anyone, let alone someone in their 80s," I said. "So you've been here in Portwenn all night, you sneak!"

"Yes, and it's been quite an adventure so far; I got to help pull a lamb out of a sheep's ladybits last night."

I laughed. "That's one of the first things I did when I met Joan as well!" I told her.

"Never a dull moment here on the farm," Joan said. "But tell me…how did everything go yesterday?"

She was talking about the doctor's visit, of course. But before I could tell her about it, I would have to tell Mom about my bit of news.

"It went very well," I began. "Mom, there is something I have to tell you…"

She looked me in the eyes and I could see realization dawn before I had said a word. "You're having a baby, aren't you?!" she exclaimed, pulling me into her arms again. "Oh my goodness, this day just couldn't get any better!"

"How the heck could you tell just by looking at me for five seconds?" I demanded, laughing.

She cocked her head at me. "I can't explain it, you just have that look. I can just tell," she answered.

Joan made us some tea and I spent the next few minutes telling them about what Dr. Hall had said. They were both overjoyed to hear that everything looked perfect and that both the baby and I were healthy. We made plans for later that evening to call Daddy and Granny and tell them the news.

"Martin will be coming over for dinner after we get back," Joan informed me. "But right now, we need to get a move on if we want to make the appointment at the dress shop."


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

Since Mom would only be in town a short time, I was worried I wouldn't be able to find "the dress" while she was with me. I also knew there was a time crunch to find one at all. The bridal shop Joan had chosen was in Delabole and she and the owner's mother had gone to school together, so they had pulled out all the stops for us. When they had heard about the baby, they had swapped the champagne they were going to serve with sparkling grape juice, and Kelly, the owner, had assigned herself to be at my beck and call. I felt like royalty.

I went in with a vision in my head of a dress I had seen in a magazine: very simple and form fitting, with a low cut back and long lace sleeves. "We have several dresses that are similar, leave it to me," Kelly told me, whisking me away to a changing room.

Unfortunately, when I tried them on, I knew the style wasn't going to work; there was just no stretch to them, and therefore no place to put the bump I knew would be prominent by then. Mom could see that I was disappointed.

"Don't give up yet, Anna," she said. "There are still dozens of options to try."

Joan's pick was stretchier, lacy, and with a small train. It was very pretty but it just wasn't the one.

"No, that's not you at all, now that I see you in it…though you do look stunning," she added. "You need something more…I don't know, vintage maybe?"

Thankfully, it didn't take much longer to find the perfect dress. I tried on a few more with Mom and Joan giving their feedback, and the last one I put on, I knew from their reaction I had found it. It had a boho feel, with a lace bodice and elbow length flutter sleeves, and hung loosely and flowing to the floor. It would perfectly accommodate my belly as it grew. Best of all, it was comfortable, and I was all about comfort…especially now, when all of my clothes were starting to feel tight.

"Oh, you look so beautiful!" Joan exclaimed, wiping her eyes. "Martin is just going to love you in that dress."

"Do you think so?" I replied, admiring my reflection in the mirror. I had to admit, I was kind of…well, glowing, for lack of a better term. Kelly finished the look by adding not a veil, but a sparkling silvery crown of sorts that was reminiscent of the daisy chain crowns I used to make when I was a kid. It was absolutely perfect.

"You look gorgeous, honey," Mom added, practically sobbing. "That dress was made for you."

It would need a bit of altering, but the seamstress at the dress shop assured me that she could get it finished in time for the wedding, even though we were on a tight schedule. Thank goodness…one less thing to worry about.

By the time we were finished, I was pretty exhausted. Martin had offered to cook for us at Joan's after our shopping trip, so of course we all jumped at the chance. He was already in the kitchen at the farm when we returned, chopping vegetables and stirring things on the stove. I put my arms around him and squeezed, planting a kiss on his cheek.

"Was your outing successful?" he asked, hugging me and then going back to what he was doing at the sink.

"It was indeed…I won't have to go down the aisle naked after all," I replied, and I saw his cheeks turn pink. He raised an eyebrow at me.

"And how are you feeling?" he went on.

"Tired, but otherwise fine, thank you. What are you cooking? It smells like heaven."

"Fresh bread, at the moment, to go with the pasta primavera," he answered.

"Can I do anything to help?" Mom asked, but Martin shook his head.

"No, thank you. If you would please take my fiance into the living room and make her put her feet up, dinner will be ready soon."

"I don't need to put my feet up!" I started to protest, but he gave me one of those looks that told me there was no use in arguing. I rolled my eyes and dutifully made myself comfortable in the recliner chair in the living room. The three of us chattered on about the details of the wedding and what I had tentatively planned so far while Martin put the finishing touches on the meal. I was absolutely ravenous, and was glad when he called us to the table. I could have easily eaten the entire loaf of bread he had baked.

Martin kept his eye on me as I devoured everything on my plate in record time. "Your appetite has certainly increased since you have fallen pregnant," he observed. "But you really should watch your caloric intake, Anna, and try to eat smaller portions while you are still experiencing some nausea."

I gave him a withering look. "Thank you, doctor," I told him. I was about to add another sarcastic comment, but I suddenly wasn't feeling so well…as if the mere mention of nausea had manifested it in me. I tried in vain to telepathically keep my stomach from rolling, but it was no use. Excusing myself, I bolted upstairs to the bathroom, and there went all of Martin's lovely dinner. Damn. Why did he always have to be right?

I used the spare toothbrush I kept at Joan's to quickly brush my teeth. When I returned downstairs, Mom and Joan fussed over me, but Martin didn't even have the decency to look concerned, as if he had predicted the entire thing. The bugger. He did, however, make me a slice of toast with the homemade bread and placed it in front of me without comment.

Mom would be returning to Virginia on Monday, so that gave us another day to spend together. Since Joan had a much bigger guest room at the farm, Mom would stay there with her, but I made plans to be there early the next morning to visit with her. After the kitchen was cleaned and the leftovers put away, Martin and I said our goodbyes and headed back to the surgery.

The minute we got in the car to leave, I leaned over and gave him a long, sweet kiss. When we broke apart, he asked, "what was that for?"

"For helping Joan get my Mom here," I answered. "It was a really special day, and I am so grateful she got to be here with me. That was a thank you kiss."

His eyes softened. "I'm glad you've had a good day." He hesitated, then traced my cheek with his thumb. "You are so beautiful," he whispered.

I leaned into his touch, feeling the familiar hum of desire begin to warm me.

"Let's go home," I replied, giving him a naughty smile. "I want to do unspeakable things to you."

Martin's eyebrows shot up, and he hastily backed out of the drive and sped down the road toward the village. I very slowly let my hand roam up his thigh as he drove, brushing it against his groin before making my way back down to his knee. I could hear his intake of ragged breath and giggled, my hand beginning to take the path again. When I had reached the front of his trousers for the second time, he quickly grabbed my hand and held it there against the growing bulge. It was my turn to gasp, surprised.

"Leave it there," he nearly growled, and I laughed.

"Yes, sir," I answered.

We somehow managed to make it back to my cottage without incident, though toward the end of the journey Martin had begun to drive quite a bit faster than he normally would. We stumbled toward the door, and I drove the key into the lock with trembling fingers. I had barely gotten the door closed before he had pulled me against him, kissing me deeply, one hand tangled in my hair while the other squeezed my bottom.

"Upstairs," I panted, "NOW." I kicked off my shoes and shed most of my clothes as I went, throwing my shirt on the banister and stepping out of my jeans on the stair landing. I turned to face him in the doorway of my bedroom and noticed he was carrying everything I had just taken off, which made me laugh again. Even in a heightened state of arousal, Martin had taken the time to pick up after me.

"What?" he asked, bewildered.

"Nothing," I chuckled, shaking my head. "Just throw everything on the chair."

We made quick work of finishing getting undressed, and his mouth was all over me, tasting me, his hot breath making my skin flush and burn. He took his time with his kisses and caresses, and I felt my need for him build in perfect, agonizing slowness. When our bodies finally joined, we set into a languid rhythm that quickly had me shuddering and gasping in his arms, and soon his body responded in kind. Sated, we lay in each others' arms, and he placed soft kisses on my temple.

"I love you, my Anna," he whispered, and in a few moments, we had both drifted off to sleep.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

The sun was shining brightly when I woke up the next morning, which was a nice change from the rain the day before. I stretched and rolled over, cat-like, into the patch of light that warmed Martin's side of the bed. I could hear him on the phone downstairs, practically shouting at whoever was on the other end. In a second, his footsteps sounded on the stairs and he came abruptly into the room.

"I have to go," he told me, leaning over to give me a kiss on the cheek.

"Who was on the phone?" I asked, noticing the concern on his face.

"It was Al Large…I couldn't hear him very well but apparently he and Mark Mylow are camping in the woods somewhere…"

"Yes, don't you remember Mark inviting you?" I answered, grinning. He pursed his lips.

"Well from what I gather, Mark has been bitten by a snake and is having an allergic reaction," he finished. "And now I have to somehow figure out exactly where they are in the vast bloody wilderness of Cornwall." He truly looked as if he was at a loss at what to do. If Al didn't know exactly where they were, how _would_ Martin be able to find them?

A thought popped into my head. "Stewart the ranger," I blurted. "Call Stewart James, he should be able to help, right?" Martin visibly relaxed a bit.

"Yes, I didn't even think of that…thank you. Could you call him for me please and tell him I'm on my way to his cabin?"

"Of course…" Martin kissed me again and was out the bedroom door as I added, "and honey, please be careful!"

Stewart James was a very nice man but I wasn't sure how well he would do in a crisis. Yes, he would no doubt be able to lead them right to where the men were camping, but he wasn't exactly what you would call mentally stable. Occasionally, he was prone to hallucinations of grey squirrels that were a direct threat to his imaginary best friend Antony. It sounds ridiculous, but there was no telling what he would do…including something dangerous.

I sighed and sat up in bed, making sure my stomach felt all right before venturing out of bed. I went downstairs to the surgery and found Stewart's phone number in the directory, and called him to relay Martin's message. He assured me he would be on the lookout for him.

I took a shower and ate a little breakfast, and then headed to the farm for my visit with Mom and Joan. They were in the barn when I arrived, dutifully watching over a sheep that had just begun laboring.

"This is the last one of the season, thank god," Joan lamented. "I hate to admit it, but I may be getting too old for this. Eight lambs this year and I'm worn out. I may have to hire someone to help me next year."

"I think this would wear anyone out," Mom replied, giving me a hug. "Hello, baby…how are you feeling this morning?"

"A little tired, but I feel all right. I'm a little concerned about Martin, though…he had to go out on an emergency call this morning." I told them both about Al calling from the middle of the woods somewhere.

"Don't worry, Anna…if anyone can find them, Stewart can. Oh dear, I hope Mark is okay. Since this is the first actual warm day we've had this spring, I suppose the adders are out enjoying the warmth. Their bites can be nasty," Joan said.

"Oh, I'm sure they'll find the campsite with no trouble. I'm just worried in general…Martin is not exactly the rugged outdoorsy type. He's out there running around the woods in a suit and tie, of course," I laughed.

"You know, his parents used to send him to visit me wearing the exact same thing in miniature. I will never forget the sight of him sitting on Phil's knee on the tractor, in his little suitcoat and short pants, while they plowed the back field," Joan replied, chuckling. "Bless him- he was a somber thing, even then." I smirked. I had met his parents…it was no wonder he was somber.

Madam sheep had no complications, and in a short time, there was another little lamb to join the others that had been born that spring. We were there to monitor the situation, but we really didn't have any reason to intervene. When we were sure the ewe and baby would both be fine, we made our way into the kitchen to fix some lunch. My own baby was starting to demand sustenance…my breakfast of toast and tea was long gone.

We had just taken our lunch out to the gazebo to take advantage of the gorgeous weather when my phone rang. I didn't recognize the number.

"Hello?" I looked longingly at the sandwich lying on my plate.

"Anna? It's Al Large."

"Al? Is Mark okay? Did Martin find you?" I asked anxiously.

There was a pause. "Mark is fine…the Doc gave him a shot of some sort and it seems to be helping…" he trailed off.

"Oh, thank goodness," I said, letting out the breath I had been holding. "Where are you? Is Martin on his way home?"

Another pause. What was going on? "That's why I'm calling. Um…there's been an accident. The Doc is hurt…we're taking him to the hospital too," Al said calmly.

The edges of my vision went black, and I gripped the edge of the table for balance. I gritted my teeth- I refused to pass out. "What happened?" I managed to get out. I glanced across the table, and both Joan and Mom were staring at me with concern.

"He's going to be okay," Al assured me. "He lost his footing and took a pretty good tumble, but he was able to walk back to the car. He told me to tell you it's not that serious but to meet us at the hospital. They are putting him in the ambulance now."

"Okay…we'll be there soon. Thanks for calling, Al." I hung up the phone and abruptly got up from the table. My head was spinning. We had to go…Martin was hurt…

"Anna, sit down right now," Joan ordered, as Mom jumped up and came across to where I was standing. "Heavens, you're as white as a sheet. What in the world is going on?"

I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, feeling bile rise in my throat. Mom helped me sit back down as I willed myself not to throw up. "Something happened to Martin…the ambulance is taking him to the hospital. We have to go," I said shakily. Joan and Mom exchanged worried glances, and without another word, Joan wrapped my sandwich in a napkin as Mom made sure I was steady enough to walk to Joan's truck.

"I want you to try to eat a little of this on the way…you need to have something on your stomach," Mom said, handing me half of the sandwich as Joan pulled out of the driveway and sped in the direction of Truro.

"Mom, there's no way I can eat anything right now," I protested, but she gave me the same look she had given me all my life when I dared disobey her.

"You need to eat something," she said emphatically. I sighed and took a bite, hoping I wouldn't end up making a mess of Joan's truck.

We made it to the hospital about ten minutes after the ambulance. Al and Joe Penhale were in the waiting area, after having brought Mark in Joe's cruiser. As soon as Al saw my face, he put his hands up, palms out.

"Anna, he's going to be fine," he said emphatically. "He's conscious and talking. They just took him back for a CT scan."

I nodded, taking a deep breath. "Al, tell me what happened to him. You said he fell?"

Joe Penhale cut in. "I think I can answer that for you, Miss," he said formally, looking as if he was about to give me an official debriefing. I raised my eyebrows at him. "At approximately ten forty five a.m., Stewart James thought he saw what he called a "grey"…whatever that means…and raised his rifle to shoot. Doctor Ellingham was attempting to move out of Stewart's line of fire and tripped over some bracken, causing him to lose his balance and fall down a small ravine. When hitting the ground, the right side of his abdomen was impaled by a branch…"

I felt the spinning in my head again. "Jesus, Joe!" Al exclaimed. "Sorry, Anna…here, maybe you better sit down."

I was getting pretty damned tired of people telling me to sit down. All I wanted was to see Martin with my own eyes. I walked over to the nearest nurse and told her who I was, and she assured me that I could go be with him as soon as he was back from his scan.

I sat holding Mom's hand, my imagination coming up with every awful scenario it could muster. I think my nursing training made things even worse, making me think of all the organs that could be damaged, the infection that could set in…by the time the nurse called me back, I was visibly shaking.

"Do you want me to go with you, sweetie?" Mom asked, but I shook my head.

"I'm okay, I promise."

The nurse led me in to the A&E area, where the patient rooms were sectioned off with curtains. Martin was in the one at the very end of the line, and when we pulled the curtain back, I wasn't ready to see him looking so pale. I immediately burst into tears.

"Shh…I'm fine, Anna. Please don't cry," Martin said, and I rushed to him. I wanted to throw myself on him and hold him tight but I knew that would do more harm than good at the moment. I settled for kissing him all over his face, holding his cheeks in my hands.

"What did the doctor say? How bad is it?" I pressed, sniffling. He reached up to wipe a tear away.

"The doctor is a git, so he hasn't said anything," Martin answered flatly, "but I know it's not bad. I dislocated my shoulder, which they've already set…"

"Joe Penhale said you were impaled!" I practically yelled.

Martin scowled. "Speaking of gits…that man is completely incompetent! I fell on a branch and it…" he paused, raising an eyebrow. "Well, yes, I suppose it impaled me," he conceded. I wailed, putting my hands over my face. "Anna, shush. There is no active bleeding so that is a good sign. Let's just wait and see what the CT scan looks like, all right? Please stop crying."

I was trying. It was hard when Martin was visibly in pain every time he took a breath. I could also tell he hated the fact that he was now the patient instead of the doctor…I knew the last thing he wanted to be doing was lying in bed waiting for someone else to make a diagnosis. I took his face in my hands again and kissed him, and he seemed to relax a little.

In a few minutes, a man introducing himself as Mr. Dennison came in with what looked like several X-rays. "Well, Dr. Ellingham, it looks as though you have a grade two liver laceration," he said, putting the films on the lightbox for us to look at. "There also seems to be part of the branch left in the wound…"

"Fluids and BP remaining stable?" Martin snapped.

"Yes…"

"Capsule punctured on the liver?"

"Just barely. Not enough to be concerned. We will have to do minor surgery to clean the wound and remove the foreign matter, but you should expect to be up and around in no time."

"You've started a Cefoxitin drip, I see," Martin commented, looking at the IV bag hanging on the pole next to him.

"Yes, two grams to start."

"Hmmph." I guessed that was Martin's way of saying he would have done the same thing. Mr. Dennison glanced at me, and I gave him a small smile of encouragement. I had a feeling Martin was going to be his most difficult patient to date.

"As soon as we have an operating room open, an orderly will be back to take you down for surgery. It shouldn't be much longer." Martin scowled in reply, but I thanked the doctor enough for both of us. A minute later, a nurse came in to give Martin some pain medication, which seemed to help take the edge off. I could see him sort of melt into the bed a little, so I knew it was working.

"I'll be here as soon as you wake up," I promised him, and he squeezed my hand. "I love you so much, Martin. I'm so sorry you're in pain…I wish there was something I could do to help."

"It helps just having you here," he answered, the meds starting to loosen his tongue. "And I love you too…and our baby…more than I can ever tell you. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me. Please, don't ever go away." His eyes were losing focus, his grip loosening on my hand. I ran my fingers through his hair, kissing his forehead.

"I'm not going anywhere, my love," I answered softly.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

Mom, Joan, and I waited at the hospital until Martin was out of surgery, and I was able to see him again for a few minutes—though he was pretty much out of it the whole time. He kept telling me he loved me and how beautiful I was, which made me smile; he normally wasn't someone who expressed such feelings, unless we were alone in intimate moments. He certainly never said them when there were other people around, like the nurse that came in and out of his room. She thought it was sweet, and kept saying, "aww, bless him" with her hand on her heart.

I probably would have stayed at the hospital with him that night if Mom wasn't still in town, but I knew my time with her was really short. I kissed Martin goodbye and promised to be back as soon as I rescheduled the day's appointments.

"Kiss me again before you go," he told me groggily, and I laughed. "It will be a long night without you." I loved my quiet, stoic Martin, but this new effusive Martin was kinda nice too. I kissed him sweetly and stroked the top of his head.

Before we left the hospital, I went to check on Mark and make sure he was on the mend. "I'm doing just fine, thanks to the Doc," he told me. "How is he?"

"He's going to be okay; he had a small surgery, but he should be up and around in a few days. I'm glad he made it to you in time," I said. Mark smiled a bit shyly.

"Yes, it could have been a bad situation indeed. You tell Doc Martin I said to get well soon," he said. "And I'm sure we'll see each other around the village now and again."

It was late when we got back to the farm, and I was exhausted. "You're not going anywhere tonight, young lady," Joan told me firmly. "You are going to spend the night here with us…there's plenty of room for you." I hugged her gratefully; the thought of going back to my house alone certainly didn't appeal to me. Luckily, the room Mom was staying in had an extra bed, and Joan made it up nice and comfy for me. I was so tired. It seemed like our dress shopping trip had been weeks ago instead of just the day before.

"Are you worried about Martin, sweetheart?" Mom asked me after we had gone to bed. I snuggled down under the covers and yawned before answering, "Maybe a little bit, but the injury didn't look too serious. The hard part is going to be getting him to take it easy for the next few days. Knowing him, he will expect to be working a full schedule again as soon as he is released from the hospital."

"I know you will take good care of him. I love seeing the two of you together, Anna…your personalities really seem to complement each other. But if he has a stubborn streak, it is no match for yours, I can guarantee," Mom laughed.

The next morning after breakfast, I said a tearful goodbye to Mom before Joan took her to the train station. I hated that she lived so far away from me, but it was some comfort to know she would be back in a few months for my wedding. After they had gone, I drove back to Portwenn to the surgery and begin to reschedule appointments. Word had already gotten out around the village that Martin was in the hospital, so I had to field quite a few phone calls from people just curious about what had happened and whether or not he was all right.

"I heard the Doc got bitten by a snake!" said Mr. McKinnon.

"No, that was PC Mylow…but he's okay now too," I corrected him.

"Well then what happened to the Doc?" I proceeded to tell the abbreviated story yet again, which seemed to satisfy Mr. McKinnon's curiosity. In about five minutes, there was another call.

"I heard the Doc got shot by Stewart!" Mrs. Andrews exclaimed. I sighed and rubbed my eyes.

"No, Mrs. Andrews…no one was shot, thank god…" And on and on it went.

I had just gotten off the phone with Chris Parsons to arrange a locum for the next few days when Mrs. Tishell burst through the front door, despite the note I had left on it saying there would be no surgery hours that day.

"Hello, Mrs. Tishell…we're not open today, I'm afraid…" I began.

"Anna! I heard the news about the doctor and I just had to come by and make sure he was all right!" she exclaimed, nearly in tears. I fought the urge to roll my eyes and smiled at her stiffly.

"He's going to be fine. Just had a small accident, minor surgery, but he will be back home very soon," I told her. She visibly relaxed and held the large box she had been holding out to me.

"Oh that is good news," she gushed. "I baked this cake for him…I know he doesn't usually eat cake, but maybe he will make an exception just this once…"

"That's very nice of you, Mrs. Tishell. I will be sure to let him know you brought it," I said. "Now, I hate to rush you, but I need to be going to the hospital to see him." I was trying surreptitiously to corral her toward the front door.

"I'd be happy to ride over there with you, if you wanted some company," she hinted, none too subtly. I shook my head.

"No, thank you," I told her firmly.

"Please do give him my love, won't you?" she emphasized the word "love" for just a bit longer than was appropriate, but I ignored it.

"I certainly will. Thank you again, Mrs. Tishell." Thank goodness…she was out the front door and on her way down the steps. I closed the door and took a deep breath. "Give him my _love_" indeed, I smirked. Not bloody likely.

When I finally made it to the hospital, Martin was sitting up in bed, scowling harder than I had ever seen him scowl. When he saw me, though, his eyes softened a little. "Hello," he said quietly. I rushed to him and kissed him hard…even though it had only been one night, I had missed him terribly.

"Hello, my love," I answered, beaming at him. "How are you feeling today?"

"I want to go home," he groused.

"I know you do, but that wasn't my question."

"A bit sore, but I'm all right. Better, now that you're here." He squeezed my hand. "How are _you_ feeling?"

I blinked. "Me? I'm great…no nausea today so far, I think maybe we are over the hump. I can barely button my jeans, though." I raised the hem of my tee shirt to show him. He looked irritatingly pleased that I was getting too fat for my clothes. I stuck my tongue out at him.

"I spoke to Chris, and he is sending a locum starting tomorrow until you are home and healed up," I changed the subject. "I think he said his name was Dr. Lowe."

Martin thought a minute. "The name doesn't ring a bell…he must be new," he said dubiously. "I hope he knows what he's doing."

I smiled at him. "I'm sure Chris wouldn't send him if he didn't. And I'll be there to help," I said. "And it's only for a little while. I just need you to rest as much as possible so you can come home to me. You've ruined me when it comes to sleeping alone, I just don't sleep well without you."

He squeezed my hand again. "Mmm. I share the sentiment," he answered. "And it doesn't help that this hospital bed was quite possibly used as an implement of torture in the dark ages."

Mr. Dennison came in that afternoon for a follow up. When he took the dressing off the wound, he frowned. "I don't think I like the look of that…it seems we have a bit of infection starting. I'm going to increase your dosage of Cefoxitin and see if that clears it up," he told Martin. "We'll monitor your temperature as well…it seems to be slightly elevated, but not concerning right now."

I thanked the doctor, and when he had gone, turned to Martin. "Not exactly the outcome we were hoping for, is it?" I asked, kissing him on the forehead. He did feel a bit warm.

"Decidedly not," Martin answered darkly.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

I spent the rest of the day with Martin, even though he was the grouchiest I had ever seen him. I knew he would be a rotten patient, but I didn't expect him to be this bad. The worst part was he was rude to his nurse, and that was something for which I had to take him to task; I used to be one of those hospital nurses, and I knew just how hard they worked to make their patients as comfortable as possible.

"Do you think you could lay off her a little bit, Martin?" I chided him after he barked at her for the third time that afternoon. "She's here to help you, and she is doing a good job…I know you are unhappy about being here, but I won't let you take it out on the people who are taking care of you!"

He looked at me crossly. "I would be much happier if she just left me alone; I can take my own temperature and blood pressure, and I could notate it on my own file, if it came to it."

"I know you can, Martin," I sighed, "but it's her job. Not yours this time. You are here to heal and rest. That's it."

He grumbled under his breath until I finally lost my temper. "How would you like it if I was a nurse in this hospital and someone treated me the same way you are treating her?" I exclaimed.

He blinked at me, opening his mouth and closing it again. "I…never really thought of it that way…" he answered reluctantly.

"I know you didn't. So the next time you feel the urge to bite her head off, just imagine it's me." Martin looked at me a bit sheepishly.

"Fine," he said, sounding like a petulant child. I sighed and shook my head at him.

"It's a good thing I love you so much, because you really can be impossible sometimes." I kissed him then, because I just wasn't able to stay mad at him for long, no matter how much he aggravated me.

Dr. Jason Lowe arrived an hour before the surgery opened the next morning, and I liked him instantly. He was in his mid-40's and tall, though not as tall as Martin, with dark brown hair and eyes and gold-rimmed glasses. He was dressed casually in a polo shirt and khakis, and had a very easygoing manner. He had just moved to Cornwall from Devon, where he worked as a GP for ten years, and was now working in Padstow and thinking of opening his own practice there.

"We will probably have a few extra people show up for surgery hours today, since you're new…I'm sure they are going to be curious," I told him, and he smiled.

"Ah, the joys of village life," he said. "I'm sure they're all the same the world over."

"That's been my experience," I agreed, laughing. "They are all good, hard working, well-meaning people. And I could sneeze inside my own shower this morning, and this afternoon someone would ask me how my cold was coming along. They take gossip to a whole new level."

The day went just as I had predicted, with several curious villagers showing up with vague complaints of aches and pains and a few others with absolutely no pretense at all, other than giving the replacement doctor the once over. I was kind but firm with them; if they didn't have an appointment, I made doubly sure there was an actual medical problem before I worked them into the schedule. This weeded out most of them. Mrs. Tishell dropped by near lunchtime, asking how Martin was doing, and if I would be going to see him that afternoon.

"Yes, I'll be going as soon as the surgery is closed," I told her. This time, she had brought a large container of chicken soup and a loaf of homemade bread for him.

"I thought this may be a welcome change from the food they serve at the hospital," she told me, and I was truly grateful for it. This was something I knew Martin would actually eat, and I planned to take it to him. It was very thoughtful of her, I had to admit, even though her complete devotion to my fiancé was a little unnerving. I thanked her profusely but again declined her offer to accompany me to the hospital. I had to draw the line somewhere.

Our last patient of the day was Louisa Glasson, whom I hadn't seen to speak to since her breakup with Danny Steele. She looked truly beautiful that day in an orange and white dress, her hair in its usual ponytail.

"Hello, Anna," she said warmly as she approached the receptionist desk. "I have an appointment at four."

"Hi…yes, the doctor is just finishing up with another patient, he shouldn't be too long," I answered. "It's nice to see you, Louisa; it's been a while."

"Yes, it's nice to see you too…you're looking very well. How is Martin doing?" She sat down in the window seat. "I heard about the camping weekend…what a disaster." She gave me a look that said, "Could we really have expected anything else?" I chuckled.

"He's on the mend, thank goodness. It could have been much worse," I replied.

Just then, Mrs. Poustie came out of the consulting room, followed closely by Dr. Lowe. "Make sure you make a follow up appointment with Anna…" he told her, trailing off when he noticed Louisa sitting there. It was like he suddenly forgot how to speak; he just stood there for a few seconds, staring at her. _Well, this is an interesting development, _I said to myself. I glanced at Louisa, who was gazing back at him, a little shyly.

"The Doc wants me back next week," Mrs. Poustie said loudly, and the spell was broken.

"All right…I'll put you down for next Thursday afternoon, how does that sound?" I answered, trying to keep an eye on the scene unfolding before me at the same time.

"Are…you my next patient?" Dr. Lowe asked Louisa. He took three steps toward her and held out his hand to her. She shook it.

"Yes. Louisa Glasson," she replied breathlessly. "Hello."

"Jason Lowe. Hello." Another long pause. I handed Mrs. Poustie her appointment card and she shuffled out of the waiting area and to the door. "Yes! Well…erm…go through…" he gestured toward the consulting room, and he followed Louisa inside.

And I was sure, at that moment, I had witnessed an actual case of love at first sight.

Martin was sleeping when I arrived at the hospital that afternoon. I crept in and laid the bag containing the soup and bread on the stand beside the bed, and then leaned down to kiss his forehead, which was alarmingly warm. Was he still running a fever? I ran my hand through the hair on the top of his head, kissing him again. His eyelids fluttered and he looked up at me, his eyes coming into focus. When he realized it was me, a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

"Hello," he said, sliding over a little so I could sit down next to him on the bed. "When did you get here?"

"Just now," I answered, feeling his forehead. "You're burning up, Martin…has the doctor been in lately?"

"Yes…" he said slowly. "He's changed my antibiotics…the Cefoxitin wasn't touching the infection. Unfortunately, it looks like I may be in here a bit longer than we originally thought, unless this new antibiotic can work a bloody miracle."

"I'm so sorry, Martin…are you in a lot of pain?" I placed my palm on his cheek, and he leaned into it.

"They are administering pain medication, so I'm not feeling much discomfort." He took my hand and kissed the palm. "I'm glad you're here, I've missed you today."

"I've missed you too," I smiled at him. "I brought you something to eat…it's from Mrs. Tishell."

"Oh, god…" he grumbled. "Dare I ask?"

"You'll like this. Chicken soup and homemade bread."

"Hmm…" he looked at me dubiously.

"It's bound to be better than whatever they are serving here for supper," I told him.

He thought about that. "Well…I suppose I could try a little bit."

"Good. I'll run down to the cafeteria and heat it up for you."

I followed the signs to the cafeteria and used the microwave to heat the soup. While I was there I bought a bottle of juice and a muffin for myself; as usual, I was starving. I was sure Martin would have something to say about the sugar content in my snack but I wasn't going to let that stop me.

To my dismay, when I got back to Martin's room, he was violently throwing up into a small trash can that had been beside his bed. It was obviously causing him a lot of pain; every time he heaved, he made a low moaning sound that twisted my heart. I quickly put down the food and ran to him, pushing the nurses' call button and taking the trash can from his trembling hands.

"Try to relax, love," I told him, rubbing his back until he was finished. At last, he lay back on his bed, breathing hard, nose and eyes streaming. He was as white as the sheets that covered him. I got a cool cloth and wiped his face.

"What was that all about?" I asked him. He looked truly awful, and I could tell by his expression that every breath he took was hurting him. I wanted so badly to be able to make him feel better, I was nearly in tears. The nurse came in then, and I told her what had happened.

"It may be the new antibiotic; sometimes it can cause some stomach upset. I'll let the doctor know and see if he wants to try something else," she said kindly. For once, Martin didn't grumble or fuss; he just lay with his eyes closed, breathing slowly in through his nose and out through his mouth. I used the cloth to wipe his face again, which I was happy to see had regained some color.

"I'm so sorry, Martin," I told him. "I'm so sorry you are going through this. I wish there was something I could do to help." I took his hand in mine and kissed it, wishing I could climb in the bed with him and hold him close to me.

"Just stay here with me," he whispered. "That's all I need right now. Just stay here with me."


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

Martin was pretty miserable for the rest of the evening. I tried to get him to eat a little something, but he couldn't keep anything on his stomach. He was feverish and weak and couldn't get comfortable. I finally told him to scoot over a little, and I gingerly lay with his left arm around me, being very careful not to disturb his incision. I felt him relax next to me.

"Better," he muttered, before falling into a fitful sleep. I hoped he would stay sleeping, even if that meant I had to stay the whole night there with him. His body was so warm, though, I was soon wishing I had taken off the jumper I had been wearing over my tee shirt. He was like a human furnace.

The nurse on duty, Nicola, came in after a while to take Martin's vitals and check his IV. "You're really not supposed to do that," she whispered, smiling conspiratorially at my position in Martin's bed. I gave her a pleading look, and she put a finger to her lips. "I'll let it go this time, since he finally went to sleep." I mouthed a "thank you" and she left again.

After over an hour of lying next to him, I absolutely had to get up to pee…and take off the jumper before I burst into flames. I very carefully extracted myself from under his arm, and to my dismay, he stirred.

"Come back," he muttered without opening his eyes.

"I'll be right there. I just have to run to the loo," I told him quietly, kissing his forehead.

"Hurry," he answered groggily.

I did what I needed to do and was back by Martin's side in a flash. I thought he had gone back to sleep and I was just getting comfortable in the chair beside the bed when he opened his eyes with a start.

"Anna?" he exclaimed.

"I'm right here, love."

"Come back to bed…I can't bear to be without you."

My heart melted. "Are you sure you have enough room? I want you to be comfortable," I told him, taking his hand. He tugged on it gently.

"Yes, yes," he said impatiently. "It's fine." His words were a bit slurred, and I knew they had dosed him up good with pain medication. It would have been comical if he wasn't so terribly sick. I moved around the bed and climbed in next to him again, and he relaxed. He lay his head on top of mine.

"Hello."

"Hi." I stifled a yawn. "Go back to sleep, Martin. You need to rest."

"Why are you wearing so many clothes?" he asked blearily.

"We're in the hospital. If I take them off, they'll arrest me."

"…suppose we wouldn't want that…" he trailed off.

"No, that would definitely put a damper on the evening," I added, smirking.

Martin was quiet for a minute. "I like it better when your clothes are off," he suddenly exclaimed, a little too loudly. I was nearly crying, trying not to laugh.

"Martin, go to sleep," I choked.

"I love you, Anna." He sighed, tightening his arm around me.

"I love you too." After a few seconds, he had drifted off to sleep again. I couldn't wait to tell him about this conversation when he was finally in his right mind.

I hated to leave Martin the next morning, but I knew Dr. Lowe would need me at the surgery, so I went with the promise that I would try to get back to the hospital a little early that afternoon. Martin was still feeling quite nauseous, and only nibbled at a piece of dry toast for breakfast. I hoped the antibiotic was doing its job, despite the side effects. Hopefully the infection would clear up quickly and he would start to feel better.

It was a typical day at the surgery; only a few looky-loos showed up to give Dr. Lowe the once-over, ones for whatever reason hadn't been able to make it the day before. Once they had satisfied their curiosity, I politely sent them on their way. The rest of the day was the usual coughs and aches and sprains and abrasions that we saw every day in the village. Luckily, nothing catastrophic had happened so far while the locum was in town, and I hoped it stayed that way.

At noon, I fixed us each a salad and some soup in the kitchen. "This is very nice of you, thank you, Anna," Dr. Lowe told me as he sat down at the table.

"You're very welcome. I thought this would be easier than trying to get something quick at the pub," I replied.

We ate in relative quiet for a few seconds, and then he said, "um…I was hoping you'd be able to give me a little information about someone…"

Of course, I knew exactly who he was talking about, but I feigned ignorance. "Sure, I'll do the best I can. Who is it?"

"A patient I had yesterday…Louisa Glasson."

_No kidding_, I thought to myself. "Okay…what would you like to know about her?"

"Anything you can tell me that doesn't violate patient confidentiality," he answered, and I smiled at him.

"Well…she is the head teacher at Portwenn School. She lives in a cottage here in the village. She is newly single…" with that statement, Dr. Lowe's eyebrows went up, and a dimple showed in his cheek when he smiled.

"Is she?" he said earnestly. "I didn't think there was a chance that someone so beautiful could possibly be unattached."

"Like I said, she is newly single…within the last few weeks."

"Ah." He pursed his lips, not sure how to take that information. "Now I'm not sure what to do. Maybe she's not ready to go out with anyone if it's been that short a time."

"I think," I said slowly, "that you should take the chance and ask her out. The worst that could happen is for her to say no. But I have a feeling she won't say no." After the look I saw between them the day before, I was almost positive she was interested in him too.

"Do you think it would be…well, unethical?" he went on.

"No, why would it be? If you were the permanent GP, it might be different, but you're only here for a few days. Also, I may be the wrong one to ask, seeing as I am engaged to my boss," I laughed. He shrugged and chuckled.

"All right, I'll do it. Like you said, what's the worst that could happen?" Dr. Lowe said with finality, raising his glass of water to me.

That afternoon, after the children had gone home from school, Louisa showed up at the surgery while Dr. Lowe was in with a patient. Luckily, no one else was in the waiting area, because she had come for reasons other than medical. I had to admit, I was surprised to see her.

"Hello, Anna," she said nonchalantly, glancing toward the consulting room door. "I was wondering if I could have a word?"

"Oh…he's in with a patient, but when he gets out, you most certainly can…"

She shook her head. "No, no…a word with _you_," she clarified. She came closer to the desk, glancing again in the direction of the consulting room.

"With me?" I answered, surprised.

"Yes," she said, almost in a whisper. "I was wondering…uh…how things were going with the new doctor?" That wasn't her original question, and I knew it. Still, I played along.

"They're going very well," I replied. "He seems like a very nice man, and a good doctor. Everyone who has come in seems to like him."

She nodded furtively, her cheeks flushed. "Um…well…do you…have any idea how long he may be here in town?" She was still dancing around the question she really wanted to ask.

"Well, I'm hoping Martin can come home in the next few days, and then after that, he will need someone here while he heals up a bit, so I would say well over a week," I said. _Come on Louisa, stop beating around the bush_, I thought. I watched her as she chewed on her bottom lip thoughtfully, and I decided to put her out of her misery.

"Is there something else you wanted to ask?" I prodded, "about Dr. Lowe, I mean?" I gave her a look, and she sighed.

"Oh, all right…is he single?" she whispered, smiling at me like the cat that ate the canary. I laughed.

"He most certainly is," I told her, and winked.

Just then, Dr. Lowe and Mrs. Rix came out of the consulting room. When he saw Louisa, his face lit up. When she saw him, however, she said a hasty goodbye to me and high-tailed it out of the surgery, pulling her purse onto her shoulder. But he wasn't about to let her go that easily, and bolted for the door behind her. "Louisa, wait!" he called.

Mrs. Rix watched the whole thing, shrugged, and shook her head. "Can I make an appointment for next month?" she asked, completely ignoring the odd behavior of the locum.

"Of course," I laughed.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen

As soon as I was able to leave the surgery, I headed directly for the hospital to see how Martin's day had been. The doctor was in his room when I got there, looking over his chart. I didn't have to ask how Martin was doing; I could see for myself that he wasn't well at all. His cheeks were very flushed, and even though he was awake, his eyes couldn't seem to focus on me.

"Hello, love," I told him, kissing him on the forehead.

"I have to leave, I have patients waiting," he answered groggily.

I looked sharply at the doctor, who looked up from the chart. "His fever has been hovering at 103 degrees for several hours…the infection doesn't seem to be getting any better. I think our best option is to take him back to surgery and clean out the wound, see if there was any foreign matter left that we may have missed. I am going to go have them prep an operating room; he should be ready to go within the hour," he said. I thanked him.

"I can't be here, I have patients to see!" Martin grumbled. "Anna, send in the next patient."

"Martin, you're in the hospital. You're getting ready to have surgery," I told him, tears pricking my eyes. He looked at me, and seemed to register what I was saying.

"Good," he mumbled. "I feel like shit."

"I'm sure you do," I answered, running my hand through his hair. "Bless your heart. I'm so sorry. I just love you so much and I hate that I can't do anything to make you feel better."

"Stay with me."

"I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere." I sniffed, the tears threatening to spill.

Just as the doctor had said, within the hour, Martin was wheeled back into surgery. I called Joan right away to let her know what was going on, and she insisted on coming to the hospital to be with me.

"Oh, Joan…you don't have to come all this way," I told her, my voice wavering. "He's going to be fine, he won't be in there long…"

"Don't be silly! I am not going to leave you there alone when I know you're upset. All this stress isn't good for the baby," she answered firmly. "I will be right there."

I had to admit, I was really glad to have her company. I was tired and emotional and just needed a hug, and if my own mother couldn't be with me, Joan was the next best thing. As soon as she found me in the waiting area, she put her arms around me and let me cry on her shoulder for what seemed like an obscenely long time.

"You poor thing, I know you are worn out," she consoled, rubbing my back as I cried. "You couldn't have gotten any sleep last night, and then working all day…you just go ahead and cry."

"I'm okay," I hiccupped.

"Oh yes, you certainly sound okay," she laughed. "Martin is going to come through this just fine, I'm sure; this is just a bump in the road. You need to get a good night's sleep. I think you should go home tonight and sleep in your own bed."

I shook my head vehemently. "No, he wouldn't sleep without me last night, and he needs the rest more than I do," I told her. I wiped my eyes and sniffed.

"I'll be glad to stay here with him if it will make you feel better. Anna, you need to rest! At least do it for the baby."

I sighed. "Okay, let's just see how he is when he gets out of surgery and we'll go from there." I didn't want to argue with Joan, but I knew I couldn't leave Martin alone if he needed me.

At last, Mr. Dennison came to us in the waiting room. "He had a fairly serious staph infection cooking, but we drained the abscess and cleaned it up; there was still a small sliver of wood in there that we missed the first time, and we removed that as well. He shouldn't have any more trouble. I am going to start him on a new antibiotic, something that hopefully won't cause any more stomach upset," he told us. "The anesthesia should make him sleep the rest of the night, but you can see him as soon as they get him back to his room."

I threw my arms around Joan and cried again, relieved that it was over. Now we just had to get him healed up so he could come home. I hoped the doctor was right and that there would be no more setbacks.

Martin was sleeping soundly when we got to his room, and didn't stir when I kissed him gently. "I'd be glad to stay here with him," Joan offered again, but I shook my head.

"I'll leave that up to you, but if the doctor thinks he'll sleep through the night, then I am okay going home, I guess," I said. "I suppose they will call me if something happens."

"I think that's a smart decision," she agreed. "Why don't you let me drive you home? You look absolutely exhausted, Anna."

I felt like I had just hit a wall. All of the adrenaline of the day had dissipated and was replaced with unbelievable fatigue. "That might be a good idea…" I told her wearily. I could barely make my legs carry me to her truck, and I was asleep before we were even out of the hospital car park.

Xxxxx

Martin was in the hospital for two more days, and when he got back home, he was adamant about how he was going to spend his convalescence. "I am not going to spend the entire day in bed!" he exclaimed when I suggested he go straight up to rest. "I will be perfectly fine down here on the sofa."

"I know what you'll do down here on the sofa—you'll be too tempted to help out Dr. Lowe and before you know it you will be up and around and doing too much too soon," I fussed. "We both know I'm right, so don't even try to deny it."

"There is no reason why I can't help out if I'm needed…"

"No sir, absolutely not," I literally stamped my foot at him. "You have to promise me you will stay on the sofa and mind your own business for at least the next week. I am dead serious, Martin…the last thing we need is for you to get another infection, or pull your stitches. Now stop arguing with me and promise you will stay put!"

I think he was surprised at my vehemence, from the look of near-fear he gave me. I didn't care; I was not in the mood for his stubbornness. All the worry about him had taken its toll. Finally, he grumbled, "Fine. I promise I will stay on the sofa…unless there's an emergency…"

I threw my hands up in the air and let out a growl of frustration. Martin looked at me warily again before reclining on the sofa. He said matter-of-factly, "I believe the pregnancy hormones are making you overly emotional, Anna."

There were three ways to handle that comment: cry, laugh, or slap him upside the head. In a split second, I weighed the decision very carefully, but in the end, crying won out. I burst into noisy sobs and sat down at the foot of the sofa, my hands over my face. Martin sat up with some effort and wordlessly put his arms around me, and I mentally praised him for doing exactly the right thing in the moment. As aggravated as I was at him, he had redeemed himself.

"Will you please just do what I say," I sobbed, which sounded ridiculously childish. "I don't want you to go back to the hospital."

"Shush," he answered. "I'm not going back to the hospital. I will stay on the sofa and rest, I promise. Please don't cry."

"Thank you, Martin." I looked up at him, snuffling and red-eyed, I'm sure looking an absolute mess. But he kissed me anyway, redeeming himself once again. I thought back to when we had first met, when just putting my hand on his arm would make him jump. He had come such a long way from those early days. The thought of it made me cry even harder. He frowned at me, concerned.

"Anna, what is it? What's the matter?" he asked, wiping my tears away with his thumbs.

"Nothing," I answered, managing a half-smile. "I just love you."


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen

It had been three days since Martin came home from the hospital, and for the most part, he had been very good about humoring me and taking it easy. Luckily, things at the surgery had been unusually quiet that week, so he didn't really have any plausible reason to assist Dr. Lowe. I was relieved he hadn't had any more setbacks and his surgery incision was healing up perfectly.

During a lull at the surgery, I decided to get some errands done. The next patient wasn't scheduled for another hour. "I'm just walking down to the chemist's to pick up the order…do we need anything while I'm there?" I asked Martin as he sat at the kitchen table late that morning. He had been spending his convalescence working on putting his clock back together, and he was nearly finished; it actually looked like a clock again instead of a pile of gears and parts.

"I believe you are almost out of shampoo," he replied, looking up at me. I kissed him, and his eyes softened.

"Right…I forgot. Thank you. Okay, I'll be back in a few minutes; the surgery phone is rolled over to the consulting room, so you don't have to worry about trying to answer it."

I walked down the hill, waving to Mrs. Holmes and her daughter Lucy as they passed. They seemed to be heading for the surgery, but thankfully I had asked Dr. Lowe to keep an ear out for the door while I was gone.

I opened the pharmacy door and said hello to Mrs. Tishell, grabbing a bottle of shampoo off the shelf.

"Hello, Anna…and how is Dr. Ellingham feeling today?" she replied.

"He's much better, thank you." I looked around the shop a while longer, picking up a new toothbrush and toothpaste to add to the shampoo.

"Has the surgery order come in yet?" I asked.

"Yes, I have it right here…" she pulled a box from under the counter and sat it on the top beside the cash register.

"Thank you; can you just put those things on the surgery tab? And I'll pay for these separately."

"Of course. Is there anything else I can get you?" she asked pleasantly.

Just then, Martin came bursting in the door, and he wasn't wearing his coat and tie. We were so surprised to see him like that, both Mrs. Tishell and I just stared for a few seconds with our mouths open. I recovered quickly and exclaimed, "What are you doing? You're supposed to be…"

"Have you had the chickenpox?" he interrupted. I blinked at him.

"What?"

"Have you had the chickenpox?" he asked again, a little impatiently.

I blinked at him. "Yes, I had them when I was nine…" I answered.

He was visibly relieved. "Oh good. Good." He stood for a few seconds, trying to catch his breath.

"Martin Ellingham, don't tell me you ran all the way down here to ask me that…" I exclaimed, annoyed. "You are not healed up completely yet!"

"I just heard Dr. Lowe with a patient—a chickenpox case in from the primary school. I wanted to make sure you've had it. It wouldn't be safe for you or the baby if…" he stopped, realizing what he had just said, and the color drained from his face. I groaned inwardly; we still hadn't told anyone in the village except Joan about the baby. I glanced at Mrs. Tishell, who was looking between the two of us, confused.

"B..baby?" she squeaked. I looked back at Martin, and he raised an eyebrow at me.

"Yesss…" I answered slowly, trying to sound nonchalant.

"You mean you…" Mrs. Tishell's voice was still two octaves higher than usual, "you and Dr. Ellingham are having…you're…"

"Yes, Mrs. Tishell; Anna is pregnant," Martin finally said, clearing his throat. "Now, if we could have the surgery order…"

It was then that poor Mrs. T fainted; just like on television, her eyes rolled back in her head and everything.

"Shit," Martin and I both said at the same time.

Martin quickly went around the counter and kneeled down to where she lay, and patted her (a little too hard, in my opinion) on the cheek. "Mrs. Tishell!" he said loudly, and after a few seconds, she opened her eyes and blinked a few times. We both helped her up from the floor. I grabbed a bottle of water from the cooler in the corner of the shop and opened it for her. "Here, drink some of this," I told her. "Are you okay? Do you need to sit down?"

"I'm fine," she answered, her tone clipped. It was like the entire fainting thing hadn't even happened. "And I will have to ring you up for that water." She turned to Martin and her face broke into a broad, if not completely fake, smile. "Congratulations on your h…happy news, Dr. Ellingham," she managed to choke out.

"Er…yes, thank you," he grumbled, the tips of his ears turning pink. He glanced at me and picked up the box of supplies, setting my purchases on the top. "…have to get back to the surgery…" he muttered, and was out the door, leaving me there to pay a very unhappy Mrs. Tishell.

"Thank you," I said to her, hoping my kindness would win her over. She only nodded at me, frowning. "And you're sure you're feeling okay now?"

"Yes, yes," she answered impatiently, and waved me out the door.

As I walked up the hill, I lamented the fact that our secret was out and soon the entire village would know I was going to have a baby. (And I couldn't believe Mrs. Tishell had actually fainted from the news—she really was unbelievable.) But then I thought about the reason Martin let the news slip…he had run all the way to the chemist because he was worried about my health, even though he was supposed to be taking it easy, even though it surely must have caused him physical pain. By the time I made it to the back door, all my annoyance had turned into pure love for him.

He was sitting at the kitchen table just as I had left him, and I immediately went to him and kissed him deeply. I wanted more than anything to put my arms around him and squeeze him, to show him how much I loved and appreciated him. He seemed surprised with the intensity of my kiss at first, but soon his lips responded in kind, and he pulled me onto his lap.

"Careful, I don't want to hurt you," I whispered.

"You're not hurting me," he murmured.

"Also, we're in the kitchen and there are people in the surgery."

"Sod them. I don't care." I laughed, and he kissed me again, quickly this time. Just in case, I got up and closed the kitchen door to give us a little more privacy. I sat back down gently in his lap.

"How many people do you think Mrs. Tishell will tell before nightfall?" I asked. He looked at me sheepishly.

"Anna, I didn't mean to…" he began, but I shook my head.

"I know you didn't. You were keeping our baby and me safe. You are a wonderful, thoughtful man. That's why I had to come back and kiss you immediately."

"Mmm. Well I'm sure the whole village will know by tomorrow," he groused.

"That's okay; they were going to have to find out sooner or later. Now I have a good reason to buy some stretchy trousers," I answered, smiling. Martin put his hand under the hem of my shirt and rested it on the soft curve of my belly, and the light touch of his skin on mine made me shiver.

"God, I want you so much…" I breathed into his ear, and he raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"What, now?" he asked, surprised.

"Of course, now…but you need to heal a few more days." He looked a little disappointed. "And again, there are people in the surgery. I can just see the two of us running up the stairs in front of everyone like two randy teenagers. Our baby wouldn't be the only talk of the village by the end of the day."

"Yes, I suppose you're right," he agreed.

"So we'll hold that thought a little while longer," I said, getting up from Martin's lap. "I have to go back to work." I kissed him on the nose and he rolled his eyes—he hated it when I did that.

As soon as I returned to the surgery waiting area, Bert Large came in the front door, a huge smile on his face. "Congratulations, Anna! I was just at Mrs. Tishell's and I heard the happy news!" he exclaimed. _Wow, that must be some kind of record_, I thought to myself.

"Thank you, Bert," I told him. I glanced at Mr. George and Ms. Fenton, who were listening enthusiastically to whatever gossip Bert had to offer. "We've been keeping it to ourselves for a little while…"

"Well, the cat is certainly out of the bag now," he chuckled. "And when can we expect the little bundle of joy?" When Ms. Fenton realized what Bert had meant by the happy news, she gasped and put her hand to her heart.

"Anna, you're pregnant?" she exclaimed. I smiled and nodded. "And the father is…the Doc?" this fact seemed to shock her more than the pregnancy itself.

I laughed. "Well, of course it is!" I replied, a little defensively. "Who else would it be?"

"Well, no offense meant, Anna," she backpedaled. "I just never would have thought that the Doc…"

"Now, now, leave our Doc alone, Mildred!" Bert cut in. "There's obviously a lot more to him than meets the eye, if you know what I mean…"

I sighed inwardly, wishing the conversation was over, but unfortunately it became the ongoing conversation for the rest of the afternoon. I really was excited and happy that we didn't have to keep the news a secret anymore, and most of the people who called or came in that day to congratulate me were genuinely happy for Martin and me. But there were still that few that had to make some kind of snarky comment about Martin and how crap they thought he would be as a father. I tried to just let the comments roll off my back and not worry about them, but they really did hurt my feelings. I wish they could see the Martin I knew and loved: the one who so tenderly doted on me and loved me passionately, the one who I knew would be a wonderful father to our baby, just as I knew he was a wonderful partner.

Martin certainly didn't care what everyone in the village thought of him. I just wish I could feel the same.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter Fifteen

"Yes, Mrs. Phillips, from the sound of it, I suspect chickenpox…but you should definitely bring Tommy in to see Dr. Lowe just to confirm. I have an opening at two this afternoon," I said on the phone. I glanced up at the people in the waiting area: four more children and their mothers, all waiting to see Dr. Lowe, and all looking very spotty indeed. In the past two days, we had had a total of seven cases of chickenpox, all of them from Portwenn Primary…this wasn't looking good at all.

There had been talk of some parents organizing "pox parties", where they would allow their children to play with the infected children to get the virus over with. When Martin heard about that, he nearly hit the roof. He went on a ten minute tirade to me about the stupidity of the idea, lamenting the fact that no one in the village ever listened to his medical advice. I was sympathetic, but reminded him that parents were going to do what they thought was best for their children in the long run.

"Don't tell me you condone these parties!" he sputtered.

"No, I don't condone them, but I can see it from their side. Especially in a family with multiple children, it would seem practical to have all the children sick with the virus at once and not to have it dragged out for weeks," I said mildly. He grumbled "ridiculous!" under his breath and stalked into the kitchen. I only sighed.

Louisa and Dr. Lowe came for dinner that night so we could come up with some sort of plan to stop the spread. Martin was, of course, reluctant to have them over, but I convinced him it was a good idea for several reasons. One being, it would give the pair a good excuse to spend a little extra time together.

"Why in the world is it any of my concern that Louisa and Jason Lowe should spend time together?" Martin wanted to know.

"I suppose it's not really your concern, but they like each other, and I think they make a good match. So I am trying to help them get to know each other better while he's here," I answered mildly.

"I agreed to hosting dinner, not to being a matchmaking service!" he sputtered. "It is none of our business what they get up to!"

I sighed. "I know it's not, but there's nothing wrong with giving them a little nudge." He scowled, and I stood on tiptoe to kiss him, resisting the urge to roll my eyes first. I couldn't expect him to understand.

Martin had elected to cook, and was just taking a gorgeous fish pie out of the oven when Dr. Lowe and Louisa knocked on the door. After we had exchanged pleasantries and I had opened a bottle of wine for our guests (much to Martin's distaste), we all sat down and began to discuss the chickenpox problem.

"I for one don't see why this has to be an issue," Martin said. "The virus is highly contagious; therefore the children should be staying home until after they aren't contagious anymore. Simple as that."

"No, Martin, it's not that simple!" Louisa retorted. "The parents of these children have to work for a living, and they can't just stay home with their kids for that long. It's just not possible."

"Then what will happen is, every child in the school that has not been vaccinated for the varicella virus will undoubtedly get the chickenpox," Martin exclaimed. "And they will, in turn, pass it along to all the adults who have not been vaccinated, who will then pass it on to whomever they come in contact with, and so on until the whole of Cornwall and beyond is infected!"

Louisa smirked at him. "That's a little dramatic, don't you think?"

"Not in the least…"

"Well, I am saying that people who are living from paycheck to paycheck cannot simply stay home for a week or more without it being a hardship!"

"All right, here's a solution," Dr. Lowe jumped in. "Why not set up a separate classroom for the infected children? You can make sure they have no contact with the other kids, have different playtimes and mealtimes? Of course, the kids that run fevers or are feeling poorly can stay home, but the others can go to school as usual without much disruption?"

Martin and Louisa both looked at him. "That's not a bad idea, actually," Louisa finally said.

"If you can be sure that the children are indeed staying separated from the others, I think it could possibly work," Martin conceded. "I will also make sure we have vaccines available at the surgery for the people who elect to have them."

"Does this mean you will be coming back to work?" Dr. Lowe asked, and I could tell he was trying to hide his disappointment. He glanced at Louisa, who looked at him wistfully.

"Yes, I think I am ready to come back to surgery, now that I have no risk of further infection. But if you are agreeable, I will have you stay on here a few more days to help out until this outbreak has died down."

Martin was very quiet for the rest of the meal, which didn't surprise me. Dr. Lowe regaled us with stories from his years in practice, and Louisa watched him in rapt attention. There was no denying their mutual attraction, and I was glad Dr. Lowe would be in town a few more days, for the sake of their burgeoning relationship.

xxxxxxxxxxx

"Has it always been like that between you and Louisa?" I asked Martin as we cleaned up the kitchen later that evening. He stopped loading the dishwasher and eyed me warily.

"Like what?" he said.

"So…argumentative?" Their discussion had become quite intense, with raised voices and flashing eyes from both of them. It was a strange thing to watch; there was almost a…_passion_ to the whole thing that made me a little uncomfortable. I couldn't help but remember their history, and my imagination got the better of me when I recalled that the two of them once shared a kiss. I felt a silly, junior high school jealousy in my chest wondering about it.

He thought for a moment, then answered, "Yes, I suppose it has."

"Joan was right; you and she are definitely chalk and cheese," I said, smiling.

"Yes," he agreed. He rinsed another plate and placed it in the dishwasher.

After a moment of contemplation, I asked, "Do you think you would have tried again with her if I hadn't come along?"

He looked at me in surprise, but answered firmly, "No, I don't. She and I just…I don't think we would ever have lasted."

"Because you argued all the time?"

"Yes. And because we didn't…we _don't_…understand each other very well." He closed the dishwasher and turned it on. "Anna, why are you asking me all these questions?" he asked quietly.

I shrugged, feeling silly. "I don't know…I guess seeing the two of you together made me start thinking about it. And she is so beautiful…"

"_You_ are beautiful," he interrupted.

I smiled at him. "I guess…I just want to know if you think you made the right decision. I want to make sure you are happy being with me," I finished. Maybe it was the pregnancy hormones that were making me feel insecure, and I knew I was being foolish, but I just wanted to hear it from him.

Martin looked at me as if I was insane. "That's the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard. I have never been happier in my life," he said vehemently. "I know I don't say it enough…but you are absolutely everything to me, Anna." He reached out to stroke my cheek with the backs of his fingers. I could feel the sting of tears forming in my eyes.

I put my arms around him and hugged him tightly, laying my head on his chest. "I love you," I said simply. He kissed the top of my head, running his fingers through my hair. And that's when I felt it: a tiny feeling deep in my tummy, like the wings of a butterfly, or like tiny bubbles popping. I gasped, pulling away from Martin with my mouth open.

"What's the matter?" He said sharply. "Did I hurt you?"

I laughed, my tears spilling over onto my cheeks. "No…I just felt the baby move!" I exclaimed, looking up at him. A look of wonder and pure love came over his face, and he immediately put his hand down to feel it too. "You won't be able to feel it yet, but it won't be long," I told him. A smile tugged at the corners of his lips, and he leaned down to kiss me deeply. I reveled in the feeling of his lips on mine, leaving me breathless and wanting more.

"Take me to bed, Martin," I murmured, and he kissed me again, his tongue tasting me, his hands exploring. He paused long enough to lock the back door, and we made it as far as the sofa before I pushed him down, unbuckling his belt.

"No, Anna…we can't…not here," he protested, panting.

"I need you, NOW," I answered, and instead of getting up, he flipped me over onto my back and unbuttoned my jeans, tugging them down and off in one swift movement. "Hurry!" I whispered urgently; but he decided to take his time, his mouth tasting my skin, his deft fingers finding all my secret places, making me ache with desire for him. I allowed myself to focus on each exquisite sensation, concentrating on that one pinpoint of light. Then he was inside me, and I reached my peak, my body seeming to turn itself inside out as I shuddered in his arms. It was a few minutes more before Martin was in the same state, sated and gasping.

After a few minutes of spooning half naked on the sofa, Martin seemed to realize where we were, and sat up quickly. "Why don't you run upstairs," he told me, pulling on his boxers. "I'll be up in a moment."

I looked at him quizzically. "Why, what are you going to do?"

"I just have to disinfect the sofa."

I shook my head and kissed him, laughing all the way up the stairs.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter Sixteen

We ended up with twelve chickenpox cases in total, ten in children and two in adults, but by the middle of June we had seen the back of the outbreak. Dr. Lowe had stayed on for a few extra days, but wasn't really needed after that. It wasn't the last we saw of him, though; he and Louisa were out quite a lot together around the village that spring. He absolutely adored her, and she was happier than I had ever seen her. I wouldn't have been surprised if we heard about their engagement soon.

We only had one more month to go before our wedding, and we had still managed to keep our plans under wraps. We had a lot of people in the village asking us when we would finally set a date. Martin only told them to mind their own business (of course), but I tried to keep it as vague as possible, using my family and travel plans as an excuse.

"If one more person asks me when we are getting married, I think I'm going to scream," I exclaimed, collapsing into a kitchen chair. In the five minutes it took to walk from the grocer's to the surgery, it had been mentioned by two different people along the way. "We're going to have to come up with something to tell them."

"We don't have to tell anyone anything," Martin replied mildly. "It has nothing to do with them."

"I told you, they are all expecting to come to the wedding…and since you are the village doctor, it stands to reason, I suppose."

"No, it doesn't."

I sighed. "All right, I have an idea," I said. "Remember when we talked about having a reception for everyone, after the wedding? That way they will feel like they were part of it?"

"Vaguely." Martin continued to put away the groceries I had brought home.

"Well why don't we go ahead and plan it, but tell everyone it will be an engagement party? Maybe that would appease the restless natives for a while."

He thought for a minute. "I suppose if we have to do something, that's as good an idea as any."

I raised an eyebrow at him. "Thank you for your support," I said, a bit sarcastically.

"You're welcome. But are you going to be able to handle planning the wedding and the reception too? You really shouldn't be taking on so much."

"I'm going to call Joan and ask her if she knows anyone that does catering."

When I called Joan, all she said was, "you leave it to me." She ended up recruiting a group of her friends to coordinate the whole event. She planned to cook some of the food herself, but delegated the flowers and other details. When I asked her about it, she told me not to worry, that everything would be perfect on the day. I would have been perfectly fine hiring someone, but she wouldn't hear of it.

I wasn't sure I liked that Joan was taking on so much responsibility with planning the reception. She had seemed a little frail lately, with a knee that had begun to bother her, and Martin had unfortunately just diagnosed her with osteoporosis. She insisted she was fine and not to fuss over her; I just hoped she wasn't overdoing it.

xxxxxxxx

And just like that, I found I was 26 weeks along in my pregnancy. Although everything had gone perfectly so far, I couldn't shake the constant anxiety I felt about it. I was this far along when I had given birth to my first baby, and it had been much too soon. I woke up the morning of my 26th week and almost immediately burst into tears.

"What is it? What's the matter?" Martin asked anxiously, after my sobs woke him. "Anna, are you ill?"

"Today is the day," I said through my tears. "I'm 26 weeks today."

He pulled me into his arms and allowed me to cry, his hand stroking my belly. "Shh…it's all right," he whispered. "That's not going to happen this time, Anna."

"But how do you know?" I sobbed.

"Because the scans have all been perfect," he said, "and you are in perfect health. Your last check-up showed that everything is just as it should be. Everything is going to be fine."

Deep down I knew he was right, though there was a little part of me that waited on pins and needles for something bad to happen. I hated the constant, low-level anxiety that followed me everywhere, but nothing was going to cure it but time. Every new morning would be another day this baby stayed put, so I tried to stay calm and be grateful for every day.

xxxxxxxx

If anyone hadn't heard by now from Mrs. Tishell that I was pregnant, there was no denying it now…I already felt enormous, and I still had three months to go. My feelings of hugeness were confirmed by four year old Daisy Stephens one morning at the surgery. She had come in with her mother, Karina, and had shyly approached me behind the reception desk.

"Anna…why has your tummy gone all round and big?" she asked me.

"Daisy! That's very rude!" Karina looked appalled.

I laughed. "It is very round, isn't it? That's because there's a baby growing in there." Daisy's eyes widened.

"Really?" she asked. "A baby?" She seemed pretty skeptical.

"Yup. And if you put your hand just here, you can feel it moving around…" She dutifully placed her hand in the spot where the little bugger was kicking furiously. She gasped.

"WEIRD!" she exclaimed.

"I know! Isn't it?" I laughed.

"But how did that baby get in there?" Karina and I glanced at each other, and she shook her head while covering her eyes with one hand, trying not to laugh out loud.

"Wellll…" I stalled. ""Well…um…Doctor Ellingham gave me a little something that went into my body and mixed with a little part of me and the baby started to grow there." There. That was the basic idea, wasn't it? I thought I had handled the question very well. Not too graphic…not too many sordid details…

Daisy thought a minute, and then her eyes lit up. "Mummy!" she said excitedly. "Why don't you ask Dr. Ellingdum if he will give you something so you can have a baby too?"

Whoops. Maybe my explanation wasn't so great after all. I could feel my cheeks heating up with embarrassment, and both Karina and I were in tears from suppressed laughter.

"No, darling…that's something that Dr. Ellingham could only give to Anna." That seemed to appease the curious Daisy, but it caused me to have to run to the loo before I legitimately wet my pants.

After they had gone, Martin came out to the waiting area. "What on earth did you tell that child?" he asked, irritated.

I groaned. "Why?" I asked warily.

"She asked me if I would give to her mother what I gave you so she could have a baby!" he exclaimed, and I groaned again. I told him about our conversation, and his eyes grew round.

"You should have told her to stop asking so many questions," Martin grumbled.

"Martin! She's four years old!" I laughed. "Weren't you curious when you were four years old?"

He opened his mouth to speak, and closed it again. "Well…not about that!"


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter Seventeen

"I woke up to the sun streaming in the windows and sound of voices drifting up from downstairs. I rolled over and looked at the clock—it was nearly 9:00 am, and the surgery had already opened for the day. Why hadn't Martin woken me? I hauled myself out of bed and into the bathroom for a quick shower, and then down the stairs. To my surprise, Morwenna Newcross was sitting behind the reception desk.

"Mornin', Anna!" she said brightly.

"Good morning…" I replied, confused. "What's going on?"

"Well, the Doc is in with Mrs. Rix, and I'm working on learning the computer program."

"Right." I stood in front of the desk for a second. "Morwenna, I don't mean to be rude, but what are you doing here?"

Just then, Mrs. Rix came out of the consulting room, followed by Martin. "Good morning," he told me.

"Had a little lie-in, did you, Anna?" Mrs. Rix commented, smiling.

"Yes, an unexpected one," I answered. Turning to Martin, I asked, "What's Morwenna doing here?"

He glanced at her, then at Mrs. Rix. "You need breakfast," he said, and walked in the direction of the kitchen. I followed him.

Once we were out of earshot of the waiting area, I asked him again, "Martin…about Morwenna?"

"With the wedding and the baby coming, you have enough on your plate right now without having to work in the surgery on top of it," he answered. "And after the baby is born, you will have your hands full for a while. So I thought now was a good time to find a replacement."

I blinked at him. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I don't know," he said, "was I supposed to?"

I sighed. "Well, it would have been nice to know I no longer have a job!" I said testily.

"It's for the best, Anna. It's time for you to get more rest and stay off your feet as much as possible."

"I can be off my feet and still work, all I do is sit behind a desk most of the time anyway," I protested. "I thought I would be working at least another month."

He pursed his lips at me. "Well, I've hired Morwenna now, so you don't have to."

I sighed. "You could have at least discussed it with me first, Martin!" I said heatedly, "As it does solely have to do with me."

"Right. Yes. Sorry." He didn't look the least bit repentant. I sighed again, rolling my eyes. I didn't want to admit it, but the idea of being able to relax without many responsibilities sounded like heaven. I just wish he'd remember to include me in these things.

It was two days before the wedding, and even with such a small, uncomplicated ceremony, I was still feeling the stress. It didn't help that I was now seven months pregnant and exhausted most of the time. Martin had been very supportive and attentive, making sure I ate properly and was getting enough rest, even rubbing my feet in the evenings to help me relax. And any time I was within arm's distance from him, his hand would almost unconsciously rest on my growing belly. It was incredibly sweet how fascinated he was with feeling our baby move and roll inside me.

I put my arms around his neck and gave him a kiss. "I suppose I'll forgive you this time. But please, if there is a decision to be made that in any way involves me, could you talk to me about it?"

"Yes, of course," he nodded, and this time, I knew he had understood. "I'm sorry I didn't mention Morwenna to you before." I kissed him again, a truce.

"All right, now we have to talk about tomorrow's agenda," I said. "I'm going to pick up my dress at two and then I stop at the train station to pick up the family…are you going to meet me there?"

"Yes," Martin said. "I told you I would."

"Good, because we'll need an extra car for all the luggage. Are you sure we shouldn't rent a van? There will be six of us once they get here…"

"The two cars will be sufficient." He stopped and frowned at me. "Anna, you're pacing. Please sit down and put your feet up."

I looked at him like he was crazy. "I can't sit down, Martin, there's too much to do," I told him. "I have to call Jenny about the cake, and I have to run out to Joan's…"

"It's only 9:00 in the morning and you haven't had breakfast. At least come and let me fix you something."

I dutifully sat at the kitchen table Martin scrambled me an egg and made some toast. My mind was still running a mile a minute. "What if the dress doesn't fit?" I worried. "I mean, look at me…I can barely see my toes anymore."

"Then you'll wear something else," Martin answered calmly.

"I only have one other dress that fits and it's black! I'm not going to wear a black dress to my wedding!" I laughed.

"Why not?"

Was he serious? "Sorry, why not?" I exclaimed.

"We'll still be just as married, whether you wear a black dress or a white dress or your pajamas…" Martin sat the plate of food in front of me, and I looked up at him, one eyebrow raised.

"I'll tell you what…let's both just wear our pajamas, then!" I said sarcastically. "I especially like your light blue pair…"

"Don't be ridiculous!"

"Well, _you_ don't be ridiculous," I told him petulantly. "I feel as big as a house, and I just want to look nice on my wedding day, if it's okay with you."

He blinked at me. I knew I was being crabby, but I couldn't help it. "Anna, you would look lovely wearing a bin bag," he said, exasperated. He sat down in the chair beside me. "And I'm sure you have nothing to worry about, the dress is going to be fine. You just had the final fitting last week and your weight hasn't changed much since then." I sighed, but stopped myself from making another snarky remark.

"Thank you for saying that, about the bin bag," I told him, patting his knee. "I'm glad you still think I'm lovely."

"Of course I do." He sat down beside me and stroked my cheek. "Now, please eat your breakfast and try to stop worrying."

Just then, Morwenna appeared in the kitchen doorway. "Sorry to bother you, Doc, but you have patients waiting."

Xxxxxxxxx

It was after 10 pm that night when Mom called, and Martin and I were already cuddled up together in bed, my back spooned against his chest. I sleepily reached for the phone, but when I saw who it was, I quickly disentangled myself from Martin's arm and sat up.

"Who is it?" he mumbled.

"It's my Mom," I answered. "Mom, what's the matter? Is everyone okay?" I knew she wouldn't be calling this late unless there was a problem.

"Everyone is fine…" she said, and then hesitated. "But I'm afraid we have some bad news."

"What is it? What's wrong?"

She sighed. "Oh, Anna, we've been waiting just to make sure, waited till the last possible minute, but it looks like there's no avoiding it…"

"MOM. Tell me what is going on!" I practically shouted. Martin looked at me, alarmed.

"I'm sure you haven't been watching our weather…I mean, why should you be…but we've got a hurricane coming."

I was silent for a few seconds. "You're kidding."

"I wish I was, honey. It's supposed to make landfall early tomorrow morning, and it looks like it's coming right up the bay. Now, it's only a category two…"

"That's still not good! Are you going to evacuate?" I asked anxiously.

"No, your Daddy has everything secured and Granny will come over here for the night, we will be fine. I'm not worried about that. But the flights are all going to be cancelled, Anna…which means we aren't going to make it for the wedding."

I felt a sinking in the pit of my stomach. "Oh, no!"

"Honey, I am so sorry! We are so disappointed we can't be there…"

I tried to put on a brave face, but inside, I was devastated. "It's not your fault, Mom…I know you would be here if you possibly could. I'm disappointed too though…I'm going to miss you." I could feel my eyes filling with tears. "Just promise me you'll stay safe."

"I promise, we'll be okay here. Oh, baby, don't cry…you're going to make me cry too!" For the next few minutes, all we did was cry with each other on the phone, while Martin stared at me, trying to figure out what in the world was going on. When I finally hung up, he pulled me into his arms.

I never once thought that my family wouldn't be able to be there, and I had already built up the day in my mind with them all surrounding me. How could it ever be the same without them there? But I felt a twisting in my heart when I thought of waiting any longer to marry the man I loved.

"Tell me what the matter is," Martin murmured, stroking my hair, and I relayed the message from my Mom. He held me and let me cry until I was completely wrung out and exhausted. "Shh. We don't have to do it yet-we can just postpone the wedding until they can come."

"I thought of that, but the vicar is booked for nearly two months. And I really want to be married before the baby comes…"

"But I know how much your family means to you, Anna…"

"I know. I hate the idea of them not being here with us… but I feel like if we don't do it now we may not get the opportunity again for a long time. Once the baby is here, we're going to be so busy. What should we do?"

"I will do whatever will make you happy."

"I know you will…but what will make _you_ happy?" I asked. "Tell me what _you_ want to do."

He paused, and then said, "I want to be married to you, the sooner the better. I would do it right this minute, if it was possible."

I smiled, and he kissed me deeply. "Right, then—the wedding is still on," I sighed.

"Now, are you positively sure you still want to?" Martin asked.

I looked into those green-gray eyes I loved so much. "I want to be married to you, the sooner the better," I repeated back to him. His eyes softened, and he kissed me again, long and slow. He made love to me then, so gently and sweetly, knowing instinctively what I needed to make me feel completely loved and cherished. How lucky I felt to have someone who would do anything to make me happy. I couldn't wait to marry this man—my Martin.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter Eighteen

The UK does marriages a bit differently than they do in the states. Our wedding in the gazebo would not be legally binding, since it wouldn't be in a church or approved venue; we would have to go to the registrar's office the next week for the actual civil ceremony and to sign all the paperwork. Still, we had hired a vicar from Wadebridge because I had liked the idea of a minister being at least a small part of the wedding. I knew it seemed like a lot of unnecessary rigmarole to have a ceremony that technically wouldn't mean we were married, but the _sentiment_ definitely meant something to me. The idea of saying my vows in Joan's little gazebo, overlooking the sea, was exactly how I imagined marrying my love would be: simple, beautiful, and perfect.

That's how I imagined it. It wasn't exactly how things turned out.

I woke up the morning of the wedding to sheets of rain pouring from iron gray skies. Martin was sound asleep until he heard me laughing. He rolled over and looked at me with one eye open.

"What's so funny?" he mumbled sleepily.

"It's pouring!" I answered in near-hysterics.

"Why is that funny?"

"I mean, what more could possibly go wrong…we're supposed to be getting married outside."

He groaned. "Maybe it will stop before this afternoon," he offered.

"It probably won't, but you know what? I don't care. In about six hours, I will be Mrs. Ellingham."

"Mrs. Ellingham," Martin repeated. His eyes softened, and he reached for my hand. As he did, I felt the baby stretch and roll over.

"Our baby is awake," I told him. I moved his hand to the spot on my belly where a little foot was pushing against my skin. He sighed.

"Amazing," he said softly.

"Mmm. Amazing until the little soccer player decides to kick me in the bladder," I answered, and hauled myself out of bed for a trip to the bathroom.

Even though our ceremony was at two o'clock that afternoon, Martin had scheduled a few appointments for early in the morning. He had given Morwenna the vague reason of "none of your business" when she wondered why the surgery would close early that day.

"Are you sure seeing patients today is a good idea?" I asked him.

"I don't see why not," he answered mildly. "I'll be finished in plenty of time to get to Joan's."

"I just don't want anything to spoil the day." I brushed my teeth as Martin turned on the water for his shower. He stripped off his pajamas, and I stood admiring him as he stepped into the tub and pulled the curtain. After a moment of deliberation, I shed my clothes and stepped in too.

"What are you doing?" he sputtered.

"Joining you," I told him, giving him a wicked smile. He raised an eyebrow at me, but then he kissed me, long and slow.

Subsequently, we were busy for a while.

I left for Joan's at around 10:30 am—I wanted to have plenty of time to get into my dress and make myself presentable. I went into the consulting room between patients to say goodbye to Martin before I left.

"I'll see you soon," I told him, kissing him.

"Yes," he answered, and the corners of his mouth turned up into a half-smile.

"I can't wait to marry you," I whispered in his ear.

"Yes," he said again gruffly, clearing his throat.

"Don't be late!" I added as I left the room.

"Of course I won't!" he exclaimed, sounding appalled I would even suggest such a thing. But again, that's not the way things turned out.

Now he was late…he was over thirty minutes late, and I was an absolute wreck. What was more, the vicar hadn't arrived yet either. A million thoughts were swirling through my head; what could possibly be keeping both of them? I tried Martin's number again, but it still went straight to voicemail. Had he changed his mind…maybe he realized being married and having a baby was too much for him? Maybe he didn't love me after all. Maybe…

"I know what you're thinking, Anna, and the answer is no—Martin has NOT changed his mind," Joan said emphatically, seeming to read my mind. "He is crazy about you, and he has been looking forward to this practically since the day he met you."

"Then where is he, Joan? And where the heck is the vicar?"

"There must have been an emergency—that's the only thing I can think of. I'm sure he'll be here as soon as he can."

I sat in my wedding dress at the kitchen table, a cup of tea in front of me. Joan was dressed in a lovely skirt and blouse. In a vase on the counter by the door was the bouquet of hydrangeas I had picked for the ceremony. I kept looking at my watch, willing them both to show up…or at least call me and let me know what was going on.

But the minutes ticked by and still-nothing. When they were both over an hour late, I knew I couldn't sit there any longer. I had to go and try to find out what was keeping them.

"Anna, at least change out of your dress before you go!" Joan called after me as I grabbed and umbrella off the peg by the door and walked quickly to my car. The rain had calmed from the deluge to a steady drizzle, but the sky was getting dark on the horizon.

"Don't worry, Joan, I'll be right back!" I told her. I was only going to be in the car…maybe the surgery. What could possibly happen?

What I thought to be the worst case scenario was still foremost in my mind, that Martin had decided he didn't want to marry me after all, and he had called the vicar to tell him he wouldn't be needed. If that was the case, I didn't know how I would forgive him or how we could work past it.

But no, that couldn't be the reason. I knew how much Martin loved me and our baby, and how much he had been looking forward to today. I had to trust that he hadn't changed his mind. Joan was right: the only thing that would keep Martin from being there on time was some kind of medical emergency.

The theory was confirmed when, about three miles from Joan's, I spotted Martin's car on the side of the road, alongside another car that seemed to have crashed into one of the large rock outcroppings that dotted the moor. Martin was kneeling on the side of the road next to a person lying prone there. I quickly pulled over and hurried to him.

"What happened?" I asked him, sinking to my knees beside him. He was soaking wet and covered in mud and blood.

"He hydroplaned right in front of me, lost control of his car…" Martin explained, "And the idiot wasn't wearing his seatbelt! He went through the windscreen. He has a nicked femoral artery from the glass…here, put your hands on this and press as hard as you can…" he indicated to a bandage he was holding on the man's upper thigh. I did as he asked and he sat back, shaking the feeling back in his hand.

The injured man was pretty banged up, but I recognized him right away. "Martin, it's the vicar!" I exclaimed.

"Yes," he answered, dialing his cell phone. "Where the hell is the bloody ambulance?"

I continued to press hard on the bandage as Martin barked orders into the phone, telling the person on the other end our exact location. The vicar opened his eyes then and looked at me. "Miss Harper…" he said groggily. "What's happened?"

"You've been in an accident, but you're going to be fine. I just need you to lie as still as you can…the ambulance is on its way," I told him. "Do you have any pain in your head or neck?"

"Yes, I have quite a headache…" he replied faintly. "I was late…needed to get to your ceremony…" Martin kneeled down and felt his pulse.

"Pulse is thready but regular…any nausea? Neck pain?" He found a vein in the vicar's arm and inserted a needle to begin administering the bag of fluids he had gotten from his medical bag.

"A bit."

Just then, the skies opened and it began to rain heavily again. Martin ran to his car to get his umbrella to hold over the vicar. I could hear the faint wail of the ambulance siren as it approached. "Thank God," I breathed.

The ambulance screeched to a halt beside us and the paramedics hopped out. I continued to hold the bandage until the vicar was loaded onto a stretcher, and then one of the paramedics took over. I looked down at my dress; the skirt was covered in a thick layer of mud, and there was blood on the sleeves. I listened as Martin gave the paramedics the rundown of the accident and the vicar's injuries, and then the ambulance sped off toward the hospital.

Martin and I just stood there on the side of the road for a few moments, under the umbrella, though by this time there was really no use. We were both soaked to the skin, and I was shivering.

"Thank you…for your help," he told me. "It was good to have an extra pair of hands."

"Of course."

"Let's get you back to Joan's," Martin finally said. But neither of us moved. I glanced at my watch.

"We're supposed to be getting married right now," I commented. I glanced down at my dress again, and lamented not listening to Joan and changing before I left the house. My lovely dress, like my lovely wedding…ruined. I wanted to cry.

"Yes."

"I'm just glad you're all right, Martin." I took his hand.

"I'm so sorry I was late…I got a house call just as I was walking out the door…"

I looked up at him. "It's a good thing you did, or else the vicar would have died."

He thought a minute. "Yes, I suppose so." I shivered again.

"Come on, I'll drive you back…we can get your car later." Martin said, and led me to the passenger's side door of his car, securing me inside. When he got in, he turned the heating on high and aimed the vents toward me. I rested my hand on his knee, and he held it while he drove. Neither of us said anything until we pulled into Joan's driveway, and then Martin turned to me. "Anna, I am so sorry," he murmured. I squeezed his hand.

Joan ran out to meet us before we could even get out of the car. "Oh my God…" she exclaimed when she saw the state of us. "What has happened? Are you all right?"

"Don't worry…it's not our blood," I reassured her, and she pulled me into her arms for a hug.

"There was an automobile accident, with injury…" Martin said.

"The vicar," I added.

"Oh, good heavens! Is he all right?"

"He will be."

She hugged Martin next. "You poor things…you're both soaking! Come inside and let's get you warm and dry." Martin and I just looked at each other for a second. An idea was forming in my head. Maybe we could salvage the day somehow. I wondered if he was thinking the same thing? He gave me an almost imperceptible nod.

"No…there's something I want to do first," I told her, and turned to Martin. "Wait here," I said.

"Anna, what is it you have to do that can't wait until you've changed your clothes?" Joan called after me, exasperated, as I went into the house. I quickly found what I was looking for and went back outside. I took Martin by the hand.

"We'll be right back," I told Joan as I pulled Martin in the direction of the gazebo. He didn't even ask what I was doing…I think he already knew.

When we got inside, I turned to face Martin. "You may think this is silly…" I began.

"No, I understand," he answered, his expression soft.

"You look very handsome," I told him, and meant it. He had a smudge of mud on his cheek, but I didn't care.

"And you have never looked more beautiful," he replied, and I giggled, looking down at myself. I was an absolute mess.

"So, you want to do this?" I asked. I was going to have my gazebo ceremony, despite everything that had transpired.

"Absolutely."

"Right then. Martin Ellingham, will you take me to be your wife?" My voice caught, but I kept going. "Will you love me, and honor me, and protect me, and put up with all my nonsense for as long as we both shall live?"

He reached out to stroke my cheek. "Of course I will," he said quietly.

There was a pause. "It's your turn," I whispered.

"Yes…right," he cleared his throat. "I know I am a…difficult man, and I often say the wrong things…and I'm rubbish at showing my feelings. But despite all that…Anna, will you take me to be your husband?" his eyes glistened. "Will you love me, and honor me…overlook my quirks…and put up with my faults for as long as we both shall live?"

I beamed at him. "You know I will," I answered. Then, opening the ring box that I had retrieved from the house, I handed my ring to him. I slipped his ring onto his finger, and he did the same to mine. "I love you, Martin…I love your heart, and I love your character, and your integrity, your body, and your soul. I am so lucky to be marrying you," I told him.

He pulled me into his arms, saying, "And I have loved you since the moment I first set eyes on you…there is nothing about you I don't love, Anna. And I am the lucky one."

We didn't have a vicar to tell Martin to kiss the bride, but he didn't need an invitation. We kissed until the sun broke through the clouds and Joan came looking for us, wondering what in heaven's name we were doing.


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter Nineteen

After our secret little ceremony in the gazebo, we went back to Joan's to get changed. Luckily, Martin kept a suit in his car for occasions such as this; working in the countryside often meant he ran into mud and rain on housecalls. When we were both warm and dry, we all pitched in to cook a supper of roast chicken, potatoes, and salad from Joan's garden.

I had ordered a small wedding cake from a local baker, one that would have fed all my family, had they been able to be there. It was two tiers and white, with lovely scrollwork icing and fresh flowers on top.

"We can't let it go to waste," I said after we had finished eating supper, eyeing the cake on the kitchen counter.

"I don't eat cake," Martin answered, as if I needed reminding.

"It's your wedding cake, Marty…surely you can make an exception this once," Joan told him. "Now, let me take a picture of the two of you cutting it."

Martin rolled his eyes, but dutifully found a knife in one of the kitchen drawers. I put my hand on top of his as we cut the cake, me smiling at the camera, him not exactly smiling, but at least not scowling. I took the knife from him and cut him a tiny sliver of cake.

"Here you go—a little indulgence. Do it for me," I said, setting the plate in front of him.

"Tradition would have you feed it to each other, Marty," Joan added, smirking.

"Absolutely out of the question," he replied vehemently. I laughed, digging into my slice of cake. It was a gorgeous spice cake with cream cheese frosting, and I let out a groan of delight.

"You really should be watching your caloric intake at this stage of pregnancy, Anna," Martin told me mildly. "Contrary to popular belief, you are not really eating for two."

"So you're saying I _shouldn't_ eat the entire cake, then?" I replied slowly, my tone mock-serious.

"Very funny."

"Leave her alone, Marty!" Joan exclaimed, exasperated. "Let her enjoy her own wedding cake, for heaven's sake."

After we had the kitchen cleaned up and the leftovers put away, Joan said to us, "I'm really sorry things worked out the way they did today…I know you were looking forward to your family being here, Anna, and to your ceremony."

Martin and I looked at each other, and I smiled. "It turned out pretty okay in the end," I said, taking his hand and giving it a squeeze. "We had our version of a ceremony, anyway…and to me, it was perfect." Martin's eyes softened, and he looked as if he felt the same way.

"That's the spirit," Joan said. "No use crying over spilled milk. You made the best of a bad situation."

Soon after that, we said our goodbyes to Joan and got in Martin's car. "It's sort of our wedding night," I commented.

He thought a minute. "Yes, I suppose it is." I yawned, and he glanced at me. "We need to get you home and into bed."

I raised an eyebrow at him. "That's exactly what I was thinking," I said mischievously. I squeezed his leg.

"You know what I mean…you're exhausted, Anna."

"I am rather tired," I admitted. "But I don't want to go to bed yet…I have other plans."

We stopped to pick up my car from the side of the road where I had left it, and then we drove to my cottage. When we got inside, I immediately pulled Martin's head down for a long, slow kiss. "Hello, husband," I murmured, looking into his eyes.

"Hello, Mrs. Ellingham," he replied. The words sent a thrill through my heart. I looked at my left hand as it rested on his chest, my new wedding ring twinkling in the low light. I felt such a surge of love for this extraordinary man, this complex, brilliant, tender man…my new husband.

"I want tonight to be romantic," I told him, "even though I am enormously pregnant and we are both knackered from saving a man's life on the side of the road."

Martin looked at me, perplexed. "Anna, I'm afraid I'm…not very good at…being romantic," he said haltingly. "I don't want to disappoint you…"

"All I want you to do is go upstairs and get ready for bed. I'll do the rest," I assured him.

He blinked. "What are you going to do?" he wanted to know.

"Just trust me."

He did as he was told, and climbed the stairs to my bedroom while I made sure everything was locked up downstairs. I gathered a few candles from the sitting room, carrying them upstairs and positioning them around the room. Their light created a warm, soft glow. Martin came out of the bathroom in his pajamas, smelling warm and clean from the shower.

"Now, you sit down here and relax," I told him, plugging my phone into the speaker and turning on some soft music. "I'm going to go take a quick shower…I'll be right back."

"All right…I suppose the candles are for romantic effect?" he asked, and I smiled.

"Is it working?" I answered, and he mumbled a vague reply under his breath.

I stepped into the shower and let the hot water wash away the stress and disappointment of the day. When I was finished, I put on the lacy white nightgown I had bought for the occasion. I looked in the mirror. It still amazed me how much my body hand changed in such a few short months. My breasts were much bigger, rounder, and my belly seemed to take up three quarters of my body. I felt huge.

Martin was sitting with his back against the headboard, waiting for me, and I could hear his quick intake of breath as I walked in.

"What?" I said, feeling self-conscious in front of him for maybe the first time.

"You look..." he began.

"I know. Ginormous."

"I was going to say gorgeous," he finished softly, getting up and walking around the bed to where I was standing. He tucked a damp curl behind my ear.

"Do you really think so?" I asked dubiously.

"Of course I do!" he answered, his tone emphatic.

I smiled up at him. "Thank you, Martin. I needed to hear you say that." We kissed very slowly, his hands cupping my cheeks, and it felt different somehow; I felt a new connection to him that hadn't been there that morning. It was truly as if saying our vows to one another had tied us together completely, that our hearts were tethered to each other in a way that felt stronger than it had before.

The first few notes of Norah Jones' "Come Away With Me" came over the speaker, and I took Martin's hand. "I love this song," I said quietly. I looked into his eyes. "Dance with me?"

For a moment I thought he was going to refuse, that he would say he didn't dance, but then he pulled me close to him, his arm around my waist. He began to sway to the music, and I laid my head on his chest. "I learned at school," he said softly. "It was compulsory; they would bring girls over from the all-girls boarding school, and we all had to learn together. I absolutely hated it."

"Well, you're certainly very good at it," I told him, reveling in the feeling of his warmth surrounding me, the sound of his heart beating in my ear. It was true; he had a natural rhythm and his body moved instinctively to the music. "We should do it more often."

"Mmm."

We danced until the song was over, and then Martin tilted my chin up to look at him.

"I love you, Mrs. Ellingham," he told me. I could feel tears form in my eyes as I smiled at him. How I loved this man.

He kissed me, and we moved to the bed, getting under the covers without a word. We immediately spooned together, my back to his chest, his hand protectively on my tummy. There was no lovemaking that night, even though it was (sort of) our wedding night. We held each other close all night long, listening to the music, murmuring our love for each other and our plans for our future as husband and wife.


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter Twenty

The week after the wedding was business as usual at the surgery. Morwenna seemed to be settling into her new role as receptionist very well. She had the kind of temperament that wasn't rattled by Martin's stoic demeanor or occasional outburst of temper, and was always cheerful and friendly. I was enjoying being able to sleep in a little bit and relaxing while she took over. It had given me time to do a little shopping for the baby, and to put together the swing and the cot that I had bought. We were slowly beginning to get things ready for the arrival of our little one.

We decided the best thing would be for me to move out of my cottage and into the surgery, at least for the time being, and then maybe we could look for someplace a little bigger in the future. The only thing we really had to make space for was the piano, and with a little bit of difficulty, we were able to wedge it into a corner of the sitting room area. It wasn't ideal but it would do in a pinch…I couldn't stand to go a day without playing at least a little something.

I was eating breakfast and Martin was in the kitchen making coffee when he got a phone call on his cell phone Monday morning. "Louisa? Calm down, speak normally…hold the phone where I can hear his breathing. Sounds like he's hyperventilating, possibly a panic attack…have him breathe into a paper bag for a minute or two, that should raise his carbon dioxide level. It's common, it's nothing to worry about. If his breathing doesn't improve call me back…" there was a pause, and he sighed deeply. "Yes, all right, I'll be right there."

"What's going on?" I asked when he had hung up.

"Louisa is on a field trip to Joan's farm and there's a child hyperventilating," he explained. "I'm sure he's fine, but she wants me to go out there anyway…complete waste of time."

I gave him a look. "You may think so, but it's a child in Louisa's care; of course you should go and make sure he's okay…it will make her feel better, Martin. I'll ride out there with you; I wanted to see Joan anyway."

"This is not going to be a social call, you know!" he groused.

"Yes, I know, I just want to say hello," I said calmly. "No need to fuss. Come on, let's go."

When we got there, there was a mob of children standing looking in the chicken pen at a boy sitting on the ground, breathing into a paper bag. Joan and Louisa were having a heated discussion.

"Has his condition improved?" Martin asked.

"Yes, a bit," Louisa answered.

"As I said on the phone, more than likely a panic attack."

"Well, there wouldn't have been an issue at all if…" Louisa began angrily, but Joan cut her off.

"He could have seriously hurt my birds!" she exclaimed indignantly.

"That doesn't justify locking him up in a chicken coop!"

"Well, someone has to teach him that sort of behavior is totally unacceptable!"

"By doing something even more unacceptable?" Louisa was clearly very upset. It was a good time for me to diffuse the situation. While Martin examined the boy, I led Joan away from the chicken pen and toward the house. She was nearly in tears.

"I certainly didn't mean to the cause the boy any harm, I just wanted to teach him a lesson, that you can't treat animals the way he was treating my chickens!"

"I know you didn't mean to hurt him, Joan," I said sympathetically. "And I'm sure he's fine now—no worse for wear. He should have been behaving himself."

"And now Louisa is upset with me," Joan lamented. "That's the worst part, I think. Oh, I just feel terrible about the whole thing. I shouldn't have done it, but he just made me so angry!" I led her into the kitchen and sat her down at the table, where she began to cry. I put my arms around her.

"It's all over now, and the boy is going to be fine. Let me make you a cup of tea," I soothed. I had never seen Joan so emotional. At that moment, she seemed very frail and defeated, which are two words I never thought I would use to describe her. Of course, I didn't condone her methods of teaching the kid a lesson—I was actually really surprised she had reacted that way at all; she was usually very patient when it came to children. What was going on with her?

Martin came in the kitchen door to fetch me. "I have to get back to the surgery," he said impatiently.

"I think I'll stay here for a while," I told him, and he glanced down at Joan, who was still quite tearful.

"Fine," he said. "Is everything all right?" he added quietly.

I pulled him toward the door and said, "Joan is just upset about the whole incident. Is the boy okay now?"

"Yes, he's fine…back to his insolent, irritating self." I smirked. "I really need to go…I will see you later, all right?"

"All right, I will see if I can get Joan to bring me back to town later this afternoon," I answered, and gave him a kiss.

After Martin had left, I went outside and explained to Louisa that Joan wasn't feeling well and maybe it was best that she and the kids go back to the school. "She's really very upset about the whole thing," I told her.

"Well, I'm sure there's no harm done, Theo seems to be all right now. I was just surprised that she did it," Louisa replied, adding to one of the children, "Oi, Lucy Holmes, back in line, please."

"I am too. I'm going to stay here with her for a while…she really doesn't seem like herself today," I said.

"Well, please tell her that all is forgiven and I'm sorry I got so angry with her, will you?"

"Of course."

I wish that would have been the end of the whole situation, but each of the next three days, Martin was called to Theo Wenn's house because the boy was running a fever and vomiting. Theo's parents had heard about what had happened on the school trip and were very unhappy, to say the least, and they were blaming Theo's illness on Joan.

"He's not responding to the antibiotics," Martin told me. "I don't suppose his test results have come back, have they?"

"Not yet," I answered.

"Well, the Wenns are talking about hiring a solicitor to go after Joan for damages," he went on.

"What? That's absolutely ridiculous!" I exclaimed.

"Of course it is. And Joan can't afford to hire someone on her own…I'm going to have to help her."

I shook my head in dismay. "Is there a possibility she _could_ be responsible for him being sick?"

"Unfortunately, yes, his condition could be caused by bird feces. That's why I'm hoping the test comes back soon so we can know for sure."

I sighed. This was the last thing in the world that Joan needed right now.

Martin and I went to Joan's for dinner Thursday night to discuss the situation with her. She was nearly beside herself with worry. "What am I going to do, Marty? A solicitor will cost thousands of pounds! I can't even afford a fraction of that," she exclaimed. She hadn't touched her supper, even though I coaxed her several times to eat something.

"If you need a solicitor, Aunty Joan, then I will make sure that you have one," Martin told her.

"Absolutely not, Marty…I will not be a burden to you and Anna," she said vehemently.

"You're not a burden, Joan…you are our family and we love you! Of course we are going to help you if you need help, that's what a family is for," I said, putting my arm around her shoulders. "Now, please don't worry about it anymore. I have a feeling the test will come back and we'll find out it has nothing to do with you at all."

"We don't know that, Anna," Martin cut in, not helping the situation. I gave him a withering look. He cleared his throat and went on, "…of course, it's not out of the question…"

How I wanted to go over to the Wenns and give them a piece of my mind! It had been an unfortunate incident, and Joan hadn't handled it very well, but it certainly didn't warrant all the stress it was putting on her. If they were decent people, they wouldn't dream of suing an elderly woman, especially when their son was partially at fault…if he hadn't been acting like such a little monster, none of this would have happened in the first place.

Besides the issue with the Wenns, Joan had been busy organizing our wedding reception, to be held in the village hall that Saturday night. She and her friends were going to begin baking and cooking the next day, and the decorations were to go up Saturday morning. I begged her to let me help, but she flatly refused.

"We are doing this as a gift to you and Martin, Anna," she told me, "and I don't want you to have to lift a finger…especially not in your condition. No, I won't hear another word about it. All you have to do is show up on Saturday evening and enjoy the party."

I hugged her fiercely and kissed her on the cheek as we left her house that night. "Thank you so much for all you are doing for us," I told her. "Just please don't overdo it…we want you to be able to enjoy the party too. Promise me you will call me if you need us to help with anything."

"You just leave everything to me…"

"Joan!" I interrupted. "I'm not leaving here until you promise me!" She scowled at me, and I grinned back at her. Stubbornness definitely ran in the Ellingham family.

"All right, I promise," she finally said.

"Good." I kissed her cheek again. "We love you."


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter Twenty-one

I slipped into the one dress that still fit me and tried to tame my curls into some semblance of a style. Martin scowled as he selected a tie and knotted it at his throat. I noticed he was wearing his black suit for the occasion, and how handsome and distinguished he looked. I looked at both of us in the wardrobe mirror and nodded my approval at our reflection.

"Let's get this over with," Martin grumbled, buttoning the last button of his jacket. I put my arms around him.

"Do you think you can go into this with a little better attitude?" I asked him mildly. "Remember, Joan worked really hard to make it special for us." I reached up and straightened his tie.

He sighed. "You know how I feel about social gatherings," he replied.

"I know. But at least try to make the best of it, all right?"

"Yes."

Most of the guests had already arrived by the time we made it to the village hall for the reception. The hall had been decorated beautifully with flowers from gardens all over Portwenn, and some of the more responsible young ladies of the village had been recruited to circulate with plates of hors d'oeuvres and drinks. The crowd all applauded when we walked in, and there were a few wolf whistles sprinkled in for good measure. I glanced at Martin, who had managed to arrange his face into a blank, stoic expression instead of glowering. I guess that was the best I could hope for, and I squeezed his hand, trying not to laugh.

Joe Penhale blew his police whistle to get the attention of the crowd, and Bert stood at the front of the hall with a glass of wine in his hand, ready to make a speech. "Let us raise our glasses to the happy couple, and congratulation them on their engagement!" he boomed, then added, "Here Doc, tell us, are you ever going to set a date?"

"Yeah Doc…we've all got money riding on it!" shouted Chippy Miller, and the guests all laughed.

"Not that it's any of your business," Martin sputtered, "but yes, we did set a date!" He glanced down at me before he said anything else. I grinned at him.

"Well put us out of our misery, Doc!"

I chuckled and raised my left hand so they could see the wedding ring on my finger. "Surprise…we got married last weekend!" I exclaimed. There was a stunned silence that turned into murmured conversation, and finally a cheer rose from the crowd. We were bombarded with well-wishers who shook our hands and gave me hugs. Dave Jenkins, one of the village fishermen, patted Martin heartily on the shoulder and said, "Thanks Doc…I just won a hundred quid!"

Joe blew his whistle again, and the crowd got quiet. "Now you two, there's a tradition for a party like this, and that is every time you hear someone tapping on their glass, you have to kiss," Bert announced with a chuckle. "Let's try it out, shall we?" He took a fork from the table beside him and began tapping gently on his glass, which produced a clear ringing sound.

"Oh, god," Martin grumbled, scowling.

"Well we wouldn't want to mess with tradition, would we?" I told him.

He looked down at me. "Is this really necessary?"

"I thought you liked kissing me!" I replied in mock indignation.

"I do…" he hissed, "just not in front of the whole bloody village!"

Other people were beginning to tap their glasses as well, and the ringing sound was becoming deafening.

"They aren't going to stop, you know," I commented. Martin finally rolled his eyes and leaned down to kiss me chastely on the lips. The whole room cheered, and I laughed.

"Utterly ridiculous," he growled.

I looked around the room, trying to spot Joan in the crowd, but I didn't see her. Instead, I saw Louisa and Dr. Lowe cozying up to each other on the dance floor, which made me smile. There had been rumblings around the village that he was going to propose to her any day now, and from the looks of the two of them, I wasn't surprised; they were in their own little blissful world, her whispering to him and him gazing at her adoringly. I couldn't help feeling partly responsible for their love match, and I mentally congratulated myself. They certainly made a handsome couple.

I peered up at Martin, who looked exceedingly uncomfortable. "I don't suppose you'd like to dance, would you?" I asked him.

"I would not," he replied with finality. No surprise there. I raised an eyebrow at him.

"Do you see Joan anywhere?"

He looked around. "No, I don't see her…perhaps she's in the kitchen."

"I'm going to go see if I can find her," I told him, kissing him on the cheek. There was a collective "Ooh!" from a few guests, who hadn't even had to bang on their glasses to see my display of affection. I smirked.

I checked the kitchen, but the only person in there was Mrs. Perkins, who was in charge of the food. "I know you're busy, but you wouldn't happen to know where Joan is, would you?" I asked her.

"She left a few hours ago, said she had a headache and was going to go home and lie down for a while. She must have lost track of time," Mrs. Perkins answered. "I'm sure she'll be along soon."

It wasn't like Joan to be late for something like this, or for that matter, to take to her bed in the middle of the afternoon. I was beginning to feel concerned for her. I went back out to let Martin know what I had found out, but before I could get to him, Joe Penhale stopped me.

"May I have this dance, Mrs. Ellingham?" he asked gallantly, holding his hand out to me and bowing slightly. I laughed in surprise.

"Why, of course," I replied. We took a few turns around the dance floor before Bert Large cut in, and after him, Phil the bartender. When the song was over, Martin was at my side.

"Enjoying yourself?" he asked sarcastically.

"Yes, actually," I answered, smiling. "Are you jealous?"

"Of course not!" he grumbled. "I just think you should come and sit down now…you shouldn't be on your feet so much."

"Mmm hmm…" I teased. "Come on, Martin…dance with me just once. Please? My dear husband?" I took his hand and gazed up at him, batting my eyelashes. He grumbled under his breath, but he didn't protest; instead, he let me lead him to the dance floor. He sighed, putting his arm around me and pulling me close. The guests went crazy, all of them "ooh"-ing and banging on their glasses. He dutifully kissed me, a little longer this time.

"Thank you, Martin," I told him quietly. "I know you are hating every minute of this."

"Yes," he replied, not even attempting to deny it.

"I appreciate you making an effort. Don't worry that they are all watching; just dance with me."

He pulled me as close to him as my belly would allow and looked at me with that soft expression in his eyes that I loved so much. The crowd was really getting a show, and there were some hoots and whistles from them as we swayed to the music. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Joe Penhale answer his cell phone, and he glanced at me, his expression grim.

"Let's give them one last, good kiss," I murmured to Martin as the song ended.

"Must we?" he muttered.

"Yes, and then I will let you hide in the corner for the rest of the night if that is what you want to do," I grinned at him.

"All right, let's get it over with then." He cupped my cheek with his hand and delivered a long, smoldering kiss that made my knees weak and the guests gasp and applaud. "How was that?"

I laughed. "More than adequate," I replied.

"Can I go hide now?" he asked sarcastically.

"You absolutely may."

Before he had a chance to bolt, though, Joe came over to where we were standing. He just stood there for a moment, as if he had something he wanted to say. His face was troubled.

"Are you all right, Joe?" I asked.

"I am, yes…um, there's been a bit of an accident."

Martin and I looked at each other. "What sort of accident? Where?" Martin said.

"Bodmin Moor. Road traffic accident. Well, a single vehicle, so not really an accident as such, more and isolated fatality, you might say…"

I felt my heart drop into my stomach and my head start to swim. No…it couldn't be…

Joe went on. "…It's your Auntie Joan. I'm really sorry, Doctor Ellingham."

My hand flew to my mouth, tears spilling onto my cheeks. Martin looked stricken.

"When?" he said softly.

"A few hours ago. Paramedics said it was a heart attack. She was just sitting there in her truck, in a gorse bush, not a scratch on her. They were looking for her next of kin…uh, they need a formal identification at the mortuary. I can run you over if you like…"

Martin didn't answer, only stood there, swallowing convulsively for a few seconds. Then he turned and made his way slowly to the door of the hall.

"Thank you Joe, for letting us know," I said. "Could you do me a favor and let everyone here know what's happened? I need to go be with Martin."

"Of course," Joe replied. I think he felt relieved that he had something to do to help. "No trouble at all, Anna."

I could feel the grief of Joan's death begin to wash over me, but at the moment, I was more worried about how it was affecting Martin. I had never seen him look so sad, so bereft. I went outside and found him standing on the front steps. I put my arms around him, but he stood there stiffly, not returning my embrace. "Are you all right?" I asked him.

He cleared his throat. "Of course. Death is just an inevitable part of the cycle of life," he answered stoically. "She was an old woman, overweight, and had a diet full of fats and extra calories. A heart attack was inevitable."

"Martin, she was your aunt…she loved you. And you loved her," I admonished, my eyes filling with tears again. "How can you talk about her that way?"

"What way?" he asked, genuinely curious.

"Like she was just another one of your patients!"

He didn't answer, and I didn't push him. I knew it was very hard for him to show emotion, and this was his way of dealing with Joan's death. Still, it stung to hear him speak of her as if she didn't matter at all to him. I knew inside he must be suffering, and it broke my heart to know he was hurting. I absentmindedly rubbed his back as we stood there, wishing there was more I could do.


	22. Chapter 22

Martin had been more quiet than usual since finding out about Joan, more reflective; even though he had closed the surgery until after the funeral, he had spent a great deal of time in the consulting room with the door closed. I longed to sit in there with him, to pull him into my arms and hold him, but I sensed that wasn't what he needed. He needed time to be alone with his thoughts. And so as hard as it was for me to keep from intruding, I left him alone.

The evening before the funeral, we sat on the sofa with the television on, but neither of us were really watching it. I held Martin's hand and he absentmindedly stroked my thumb with his own, over and over. I could tell his emotions were close to the surface, and he swallowed reflexively, his jaw clenching and unclenching.

"Why do you keep looking at me like that?" he finally asked.

"I'm just making sure you're okay," I answered.

"I'm fine."

I tried a different tack. "What are you thinking about?" I asked.

He sighed. "Nothing in particular, really."

I made to kiss him, but he was stiff and hesitant. "Please, don't," he whispered, his eyes pleading.

My heart ached for him. "Martin, don't shut me out," I told him gently, placing my hand on his cheek. "I know you're hurting. It's not good to keep all that hurt inside you. You need to let it out."

"I don't…think I know how," he said honestly.

"Why don't you tell me something about Joan…something I might not know about," I suggested.

He thought a minute, and then he cleared his throat. "Um, I don't know what Auntie Joan told you about my childhood."

"Only the basics—that you used to come to Portwenn during the summers and on holidays."

"Yes, my parents always had better things to do that didn't include me; they went to Spain on holiday a lot, that sort of thing. I always got in the way, so they were glad to have somewhere to send me.

"I remember when I was about nine years old, I went home first for a night, before I took the train to come here. That morning when I woke up, I had found that I had wet the bed," he went on quietly. "It was something that happened quite frequently when I was younger. Well, my father went into a rage and beat me with his belt before putting me on the train. And when I got to Auntie Joan's there were…well, there were marks where he had hit me."

I felt my eyes fill with tears. "Oh, love…"

"When Auntie Joan and Uncle Phil saw the marks, neither one of them wanted to send me back. They, uh, actually looked into seeing whether they could adopt me."

This was a surprise to me…Joan had never told me anything about it. "What happened? Why weren't they able to?"

"Oh, my parents wouldn't have it…they couldn't have their good social standing tarnished with such a scandal. They also had the money to hire the best solicitors in London if Auntie Joan and Uncle Phil had pressed the matter. So they were forced to give up and send me home. And that was the last time I was allowed to come here to visit.

"Of course, since I was just a child, I didn't know any of the details of this until much later. My father never gave me a reason why I couldn't come back, so for the longest time I just assumed Auntie Joan and Uncle Phil had decided I was too much to handle and didn't want to bother with me anymore. Auntie Joan finally told me the whole story when I came back here to live from London."

I had had the misfortune of meeting Martin's parents not long after I had begun working at the surgery. His mother was very cold, never saying a word to me, and barely even acknowledging Martin's presence. His father was a different matter—he did nothing but belittle and insult Martin the entire time. I sensed more had happened between them than Martin had let on, but he never went into the details with me. I just knew that while they were there, Martin had been on edge and miserable.

Hearing that they had been neglectful and abusive to him when he was a child infuriated me. It was no wonder Martin had such a hard time showing his emotions.

"I'm so sorry," I told him, putting my arms around him. "You didn't deserve to be treated that way…no child deserves to be treated that way. I wish things could have been different and you could have stayed with Joan."

He shrugged. "It was one of those things that just had to be gotten through," he said stoically. "After that, I just spent the holidays at school when I could and at home with a nanny when school was closed. Frankly, I found it more agreeable than spending the time with my parents."

That night after we had gone to bed, I tentatively moved closer to Martin and kissed him gently on the lips. "Is this okay?" I asked softly. He returned the kiss with a passion that surprised me, and soon had me breathless and shivering with need. Our lovemaking was fervent and carnal and loud and unlike any other time we had been together; it was sex for the sole purpose of release, nearly devoid of any of the tenderness it usually possessed. Maybe it was Martin's way of expelling some of the emotion he had been bottling up, but it was a completely different experience. Afterwards, he fell asleep with his arms and legs tangled with mine, his cheek resting on the top of my head. It took me much longer to fall asleep. I was mourning for the sweet little soul of the boy Martin once was, the soul that was so mistreated by the people who were supposed to love and nurture it.

xxxxxxxxxxxx

Martin had taken on the responsibility of arranging the funeral with his usual business-like efficiency. We both agreed there was no need for an elaborate service, as Joan would have appreciated something more intimate and informal. We just wanted time for her friends and loved ones to say a few words if they wished, and a place to display all the beautiful flowers we were already starting to receive from well-wishers. I also had an idea of how I wanted to honor her memory.

"Martin, do you think it would be all right if I sang at the funeral?" I had asked him. There had been a song in my head for days, one that perfectly summed up my feelings for Joan.

"Yes, I think that would be…lovely," he had answered softly.

And so, after everyone had said all they wanted to say about Joan, I sat down at the piano and pulled myself as close to the keys as my growing belly would allow. I took a deep breath and willed myself not to break down until the end of the song; still, I could feel the tears in my throat, threatening to choke me. I dared not glance at the congregation, especially at Martin's grief-stricken face, or I would completely lose it. _All right, my Joan…this is for you._

I played the first few chords of the song and began to sing.

_**Love, take my hand, help me see with the dawn**_

_**that those who have left have not gone**_

_**But they carry on as stars looking down**_

_**As nature's sons and daughters of the heavens.**_

_**You will not ever be forgotten by me**_

_**In the procession of the mighty stars your**_

_**name is sung and tattooed on my heart**_

_**There I will carry, carry, carry you forever.***_

You could hear a pin drop in the church at first, but slowly I began to hear sniffling and then a few people crying softly. I managed to make it until the last chord was played before I began crying myself. When I looked over at the congregation, Martin was nowhere to be found.

*From the song "Carry" by Tori Amos


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter Twenty Three

After the funeral service was over and I had spoken to most of the guests, I went outside to see if I could find Martin, but his car wasn't there. As I stood there trying to decide if I should call him to come back and pick me up, Bert Large came up to stand beside me.

"Looks like you've been left high and dry," he commented, chuckling.

"Yes…" I answered absentmindedly.

"Here, let me drive you back into town," he offered. "No trouble at all."

"Oh, thank you; that's very kind of you."

"Your song was just lovely, Anna," he said after we had gotten in the van. "Joanie would have loved it."

I patted him on the arm. "Thank you for saying that, Bert," I replied. "I hope so."

"Where was the Doc off to in such a hurry?"

"I don't know…I think he was a little overwhelmed. This has been hard on him."

"I shouldn't wonder…he was like a son to Joan."

"Yes, he was. I know he's going to miss her terribly. We both are," I said. My heart felt very heavy, and I could feel a tear slip down my cheek. I didn't want to cry in front of Bert... I just needed to find Martin. I was relieved to see his car parked in the usual spot beside the surgery, and I thanked Bert for the ride.

"You just tell the Doc we are all thinking about him," he said, waving as he drove down the narrow street.

I let myself into the side door and walked into the kitchen. Everything looked as it did when we had left that morning. I went down the hall to check the consulting room, but the door was open and Martin wasn't sitting at his desk. I climbed the stairs slowly, and that's when I heard a sound coming from the bedroom.

Martin was sitting on the edge of the bed, his hands over his face as he tried to muffle the sobs that emitted from what seemed like his very soul. I quickly kneeled down in front of him and cradled his head in my arms as he cried.

"Shh…I know," I murmured, stroking his hair. His whole body was literally shaking.

"I should have…" he sobbed.

"Hush, love."

"No, I should have told her. I should have thanked her for all the things she did for me growing up…she was the only one who ever…" his voice broke.

"She knew how much you loved her, what she meant to you. She knew, Martin." I held him close, my hand rubbing up and down his back, as if soothing a small child. "You never have to worry about that."

"I hate this!" he cried vehemently. "I have this horrible sick feeling in my chest and I hate it. And I just can't seem to stop crying…I'm sorry, Anna…"

"Martin, there's nothing to be sorry about!" I told him firmly, looking into his eyes. "You're grieving, and all these emotions are perfectly normal. You don't have to be sorry for feeling them…it is your right to feel them. You loved Joan like she was your own mother; of course you should cry for her. It's okay."

My knees were starting to protest from being on the floor. I got up and moved to the bed with my back against the headboard, and Martin came to sit beside me, his arms around me like a drowning man. I kissed his face, tasting his tears on my tongue, trying to absorb some of his pain into my own heart so he wouldn't have to feel it so keenly. I loved him all the more in this vulnerable state, when his emotions were so raw and exposed; I just wished there was more I could do to help him.

Slowly, Martin's tears subsided and he was able to catch his breath again. I went to the bathroom and came back with a cool cloth for his face, folding it and placing it on his forehead. After a few more minutes, he finally took one giant, ragged breath, and seemed to start to come back into himself. "I have never cried like that in my entire life," he said softly.

"Well, then it sounds to me like you were long overdue," I replied, smiling a little. I kissed his lips gently. "How do you feel now?"

"I don't know. Exhausted. Empty."

"That's to be expected. Catharsis will do that to a person," I agreed.

He looked at me uncomfortably. "I also feel…embarrassed. It's appalling, the way I have..." he sounded angry with himself. "I've never…that is, I'm not used to…"

"Martin, there's nothing to be embarrassed about," I told him gently. "It's just you and me here…you never have to feel embarrassed about showing your feelings around me. I'm your wife now, and I vowed to always love and comfort you, remember?"

"I don't know what I would do if you weren't here." He reached out and tucked my hair behind my ear. "I mean that."

"Well luckily, you won't ever have to worry about that," I said, taking his face in my hands and kissing him. "Because you're stuck with me."

I coaxed Martin into the shower, and even though it was only early evening, I made him get into his pajamas and get into bed. I made a light supper and brought it up to him on a tray, despite his protests. "I'm not an invalid, Anna, I am perfectly capable of coming downstairs to the kitchen."

"I know you are, but it's too late now, I'm already up here," I answered, taking a bite of my soup. "Besides, you've had a very stressful day and I want to take care of you."

When we were finished, I cleaned up downstairs and then went up to join him again, changing into my pajamas even though it was still light outside. I climbed into bed next to him, and he pulled me close, his hand on my belly. The baby kicked and flipped, feeling like a fish inside a too-small fishbowl. I winced when a little foot hit my rib. "It's getting crowded in there," I commented. "It won't be long now…can you believe we are going to have a baby in about six weeks?"

"Mmm."

"We are going to have to start thinking about what we are going to call her. Or him," I added. We had decided we wanted the gender to be a surprise, but I had to admit, knowing ahead of time would have made choosing a name a lot easier.

"Yes, I suppose so," he agreed.

We both got quiet after that, lost in our own thoughts, and I was just drifting off to sleep when Martin murmured, "Do you think we could…" he stopped.

"We could what?" I replied sleepily.

"I was thinking maybe…that is to say, if the baby is a girl…we could use Joan as her middle name? If it's all right with you, of course," he said shyly.

I rolled over to look at him, tears in my eyes. "I think that would be perfect."


	24. Chapter 24

_**I've decided to write this chapter from Martin's point of view. Hope you don't mind the change. **_

Chapter Twenty Four

My wife is absolutely incredible.

Now that it was all over, I watched her as she slept peacefully in the hospital bed, looking more beautiful than I had ever seen her. I couldn't believe how amazing the whole thing had been, especially since, as a doctor, I had seen the process countless times before. This time, I was made to look at it through a husband's—and a father's—eyes. It made me love and respect Anna all the more, that her body could go through so much pain and trauma and how she took it all in stride, in the end giving birth to an actual tiny human being…our daughter.

I have a daughter.

It had begun quite anti-climactically enough the morning before. It was mid-August and hot—stiflingly hot—and my eight months pregnant wife was understandably miserable. She came into the consulting room between patients, approaching me behind my desk and kissing me.

"You're very flushed," I commented, feeling her forehead with the back of my hand. "Are you feeling all right?"

"I have a rotten headache…I actually came to see if you thought it would be okay to take some paracetamol," she answered. She rubbed her forehead absently, and I knew she wouldn't be asking about the pain reliever if she didn't really need it.

"Sit down here and let me take your blood pressure," I instructed, gesturing to the chair across from the desk.

"I'm sure it's just the heat," she protested, but did as I asked. "I feel fine otherwise."

"Any change to your vision?" I asked. She looked off into the distance for a few seconds.

"A little blurry," she admitted.

I strapped the cuff to her arm and squeezed the bulb to inflate it, listening to the sound of her pulse in my ears. I didn't like what I heard.

"Anna, your blood pressure is one fifty over ninety five," I announced, dismayed. "It's no wonder you have a headache…that is much too high."

"Do you think there's something wrong?" she asked, worried. "Could it be pre-eclampsia?"

"It's very possible it could develop into it if we aren't careful. Let's wait a few minutes and take a reading again…in the meantime, I want you to drink some water and put your feet up."

Anna moved to the living room and reclined on the couch while I got her a glass of tap water, and she drank it dutifully. I examined her feet and ankles, but there didn't seem to be much swelling. In a few minutes, I took her blood pressure again, and this time the reading was 151/94.

"I think we should call Dr. Hall and find out how to proceed," I told Anna. I noticed the tears start to well up in her eyes, and I quickly kissed her on the forehead, adding, "there's nothing to worry about yet…let's just see what Dr. Hall says, all right?" She nodded, sniffing.

I immediately called Dr. Hall, who told us to meet her at the hospital in Truro. "I'd like to admit her and monitor her for a while, check her urine for protein…and we'll go from there," she said. I was relieved, because it was exactly what I would have done in the situation.

It took a little while to get Anna settled into a private room, but by that afternoon, she was resting comfortably. I, on the other hand, was trying very hard to hide my anxiety about the situation. This was my wife, not just another patient, and I was worried about her. She was still complaining of a headache and her blood pressure continued to be far too high for my liking. When the nurse came in, I am afraid I was very abrupt with her.

"When are you going to give her something for the pain she is experiencing?" I barked. "And have the urine tests come back yet?"

Anna put her hand on my arm, frowning. "Sorry," she said, turning to the nurse. "If it's okay, could I get some paracetamol or something for this headache?" The nurse nodded at her, gave me a distasteful glance, and left the room.

"Martin, I don't need another doctor…right now I just need my husband, okay? So if you could not be so rude to the nurses, I'd really appreciate it," she said wearily. "Let them do their job. Your job is to…I don't know…feed me ice chips and rub my back or something."

I blinked at her. "Do you…want me to do those things for you?" I asked curiously.

She laughed. "Not yet. I was only joking. Right now what I want more than anything is a cuddle, but I don't think we'll both fit in this bed."

I pulled the chair as close as I could to her bed and took her hand, kissing it. "Will this do for now?" I asked.

She beamed at me. "Yes, this is perfect." She sighed. "Do you think Dr. Hall will induce me?"

"It's very possible, yes."

She smiled. "Can you believe we might be leaving here with a baby?" she said softly.

The very thought made my stomach flip nervously. "Are you…prepared for that scenario?" I asked haltingly.

"I guess as much as I can be," she laughed. "It just seems so surreal. And there's something oddly romantic about us being here together, waiting…this may be the last night it will just be the two of us." She looked at me wistfully.

What a strange thought. It wouldn't be just Anna and myself anymore…we would be three, a proper family. I let my mind wander, imagining what it would be like to take our baby home, it sleeping in the crib at the foot of our bed. Anna's pregnancy seemed to have gone by so quickly.

I leaned over and kissed her, breathing her in, and placed my hand on her round belly. I could feel our baby kick and roll underneath my hand…a sensation of which I never could get enough. "I love you," I whispered.

"I love you too," she answered, her eyes shining.

By late evening, the tests on Anna's urine had come back and Dr. Hall had decided it was time to induce, starting a Syntocinon drip—a common drug used to encourage contractions. It only took a few hours before Anna was experiencing them every few minutes.

"Ow…ow…why does my back hurt so badly?" she exclaimed through gritted teeth as another contraction hit her.

"It could be back labor…it's when the uterus is in a posterior position and…" I began, but she glared at me.

"I. DON'T. NEED. ANOTHER. DOCTOR," she growled, breathing hard. "Please, Martin!"

"Yes…sorry," I answered sheepishly, wincing as she squeezed the feeling out of my hand. "What can I do to help you?"

She blew out through the last of the contraction and took a deep breath. "Could you sit behind me and rub my back, please?"

"Of course," I said. I began to sit down, and then realized the suit coat and tie I was wearing were not going to be conducive to the situation. I quickly removed them and rolled up my sleeves, sitting behind Anna on the bed and rubbing her gently between the shoulder blades.

"No, lower back…my hips," she instructed, "and push as hard as you can."

"Are you sure? I don't want to hurt you."

"You won't hurt me, I promise," she smirked. "Just rub really hard next contraction."

I did as I was told, and it seemed to help a tiny bit. I felt helpless and useless as the woman I loved was in such obvious discomfort. I was extremely relieved when Dr. Hall came in to examine Anna and recommended she get an epidural.

"Each contraction is making your blood pressure go up, and it's not good for you or the baby," she told her. "An epidural will make you more relaxed as the labor progresses. I strongly recommend it." Anna was all too happy to oblige.

And not long after, in a whirlwind, Anna was pushing…and there was a cry…and our daughter was here. Harper Joan Ellingham was born at dawn, weighing seven pounds and with a head full of golden brown hair. I could feel tears burning in my eyes as I kissed my remarkable wife, amazed at her strength, awed by her beauty. My hands shook as I cut the umbilical cord, and Harper showed us just how strong her lungs were. I smoothed my hand over her head and murmured to her, and she quieted, looking up at me with huge, dark eyes. My daughter.

And now I couldn't stop looking at the two of them. Anna was awake now, and Harper was at her breast, having a feed. I sat next to them in the chair, feeling the effects of being awake all night and the adrenaline that had been surging through me. But despite my weariness, I had never felt so happy.

"Martin, look at what we made," Anna whispered, awed. "She's perfect."

"Yes," I answered. What I wanted to say was my heart was almost bursting in my chest from the pride I felt. Now we were three. I had a family.


	25. Chapter 25

Chapter Twenty Five

The birth of our daughter was a little more eventful than I would have liked, but not nearly as bad as I was worried it would be. Even though the problem with my blood pressure was a little scary, the fact that I had carried her practically full term made me feel so much better about the situation. There were just the usual annoyances to get through, like an IV failing and the nurses having a hard time finding my veins to take blood (totally normal for me), so I had to be stuck with needles more times than I care to count. (Martin, of course, kept his eyes closed through the whole ordeal.) Labor was painful, quite obviously, but I didn't have to endure much of it before the blessed relief of an epidural. In the end, the outcome had been perfect: we had a healthy baby girl.

The look of reverence and pure love on Martin's face when he first saw her is my favorite memory. I fell in love with him all over again as I watched him cut the cord with tears in his eyes, as he gently cupped her head with his hand and soothed her as she cried. He instinctively knew just what to do in the moment. I wondered if it surprised him to find the innate fatherly capabilities coming out in him so quickly and effortlessly. The moment he laid eyes on her, he was completely smitten. When he noticed me watching, he graced me with the biggest smile I have ever seen from him.

After she was all cleaned up and the doctor was finished tending to me, and after we had been moved back into a room, Martin sat down next to me with our baby bundled in his arms, just staring at her like he wasn't sure what to do next.

"So what do you think, Daddy?" I said to him quietly. He looked up at me quickly, caught off guard by his new moniker.

"She's beautiful," he answered tentatively, then added, "mmm…head's a bit misshapen…"

I laughed. "Considering what she's just been through, I think that's to be expected, don't you?"

"Right. Yes." He looked up at me. "You were amazing," he told me shyly. He leaned over and kissed me, stroking my cheek.

I shrugged. "I only did what millions of other women do every day." I was downplaying it—I was pretty damn proud of myself, actually. Childbirth is not for sissies, I can tell you.

He shook his head. "Those millions of women aren't my wife," he said.

His wife. I still felt a thrill when I heard him say it. I suppose we were technically still in the honeymoon phase of our marriage, and now we had an added bonus, a little addition to our family. It may have been sooner than we had originally planned, but nothing could damper the love I felt when I looked at the two of them sitting next to me.

"How do you feel?" I asked.

He looked at me quizzically. "What do you mean? I should be asking you that question."

I smiled. "I mean, how do you feel about your first hour as a father?" He was thoughtful for a minute, looking down at the bundle in his arms.

"I'm…not sure how I feel," he finally answered. "I've never felt this way before."

"Nervous?" I prodded gently.

He swallowed. "Yes, a bit. A bit overwhelmed, if I'm honest. But mostly…" he smiled a little, "mostly, I feel happy. Content." He glanced up at me, still smiling. I could feel tears stinging my eyes.

Now we just had to finalize what we were going to call her. We had already decided on Joan for a middle name; now it came down to her first name.

"So you wouldn't mind calling her Harper?" I asked him again, making sure we were both happy with the decision of using my maiden name.

He looked down at her. "Harper Joan…" he said quietly, trying it out. "Yes, I think that would be nice. Good."

I smiled at him. "Do you think it suits her?" Harper began to fuss, and then to wail, and Martin looked slightly panicked. "Here, give her to me." I awkwardly undid the shoulder snaps of the hospital gown and put her to my breast, and after a couple of false starts, she latched on and began to drink hungrily. I sighed with relief, thankful that she had seemingly taken to it so easily.

"Anna, she's less than an hour old…I would imagine anything suits her at this stage in her life," Martin replied dryly, then added, "are you sure she is latching properly? Are you experiencing any discomfort?"

"Yes, and a little," I answered. "It's going to take some getting used to."

"Mmm."

The nurse came in then, and assured me that Harper was a natural at eating, which made me laugh. Martin fussed over me, making sure I was comfortable. I was still numb from the epidural, so at the moment, I was better than okay. Once the baby had had her fill, Martin placed her gently in her little plastic bassinet, swaddled up snug. I couldn't stop looking at her…she was so perfect.

I could feel the adrenaline leave my body and I started to relax, becoming sleepier than I can remember ever feeling. I yawned hugely.

"Now is a good time to get some rest," Martin told me, scooting his chair closer to the bed and smoothing the hair from my forehead. I tugged the front of his shirt, pulling him toward me and kissing him sweetly. I thought back to my first birth, when I was so sad and alone, and how almost unbearable it had been. It seemed like a lifetime ago. Now I had a partner with me to share the joy of becoming a mother again. I was so proud to have him by my side.

"I love you," I told him sleepily, and just as I was drifting off to sleep, I heard him reply, "I love you too."


	26. Chapter 26

Chapter Twenty Six

It didn't take long after we got Harper home that we were on the horns of a dilemma—the surgery was going to be too small for a growing family to live in. For now, the baby was in a portable cot at the end of the bed to make nightly feedings more convenient. There was barely any room to walk around the room now, which made it tricky for Martin to get ready for work in the mornings without nearly braining himself on the low corner eaves of the ceiling.

After hearing his low hiss of an expletive for the fourth morning in a row as he hit his knuckles yet again on the wall, I said, "This isn't going to work, is it?"

He glanced up at me from examining his grazed knuckles. "What do you mean?" he answered, doing up the buttons of his shirt.

"Having Harper in here with us…it's just too tight a fit," I told him.

"It's fine," he said mildly. "Not ideal, but it's not forever. Once she's not waking so much at night, we'll move her into the nursery." He squeezed around the corner of the bed to retrieve his tie, banging his knee on the bedpost as he went. He let out a grunt of pain and another expletive.

"Martin, you're bashing yourself black and blue!" I exclaimed, laughing. "I think we should go ahead and move her in there now. It'll be good for you to get more sleep at night as well." Even though he didn't have to, he had been getting up every time it was time for a feed and bringing the baby to me in the bed. I think he secretly liked the feeling of participating in the process of feeding her.

He glanced at me in the mirror. "But what about you? That means you'll be up and down a lot more often, and you're still healing," he countered.

"I feel a lot better, almost back to normal," I said. "I think it will be fine. I don't mind getting up; it's only across the hall."

Martin straightened his tie and put on his jacket, giving himself a final look in the mirror. "All right, I'll take down the cot after surgery this evening." He came to my side of the bed and leaned down to kiss me. I moved my hand behind his head, running my fingers through the soft hair at the nape of his neck, and inhaled his clean, freshly-shaven scent. If it weren't for the fact that I had just given birth days before, and if I wasn't so exhausted, I would have loved to remove the clothes he had just so carefully put on and do some very naughty things to him.

Harper began to fuss in her cot, and Martin immediately bent to pick her up, putting her to his shoulder and patting her on the back. I loved watching him with her; it seemed incongruous that such a big man could be so gentle and tender with such a tiny little human. He carried her into the nursery to change her diaper and then brought her to me. "Here you are, young lady," he told her softly, "time for breakfast." I smiled up at him and caught his hand as he turned to go.

"Hmm?" he raised his eyebrows at me.

"You're such a good daddy," I said, and he blushed, smiling a little. He squeezed my hand and went downstairs to start his day.

As promised, Martin took down the cot while I cooked dinner that evening. When he was finished, he came to the kitchen and took the plates down from the cabinet, setting the table. "Can I do anything to help?" he asked.

"No thanks, it's almost finished," I told him, taking the fish out of the oven. He sat down while I put the bowls of vegetables and the baked fish on the table.

"It looks very good," Martin commented. He began to fill his plate. "How was your afternoon? Did you get some rest while Harper was napping?"

"A little," I nodded, "but, I have to admit, I spent a lot of time just holding her…I just can't stop looking at her, she's so precious." I grinned at him.

Martin smirked. "She's never going to learn to self-soothe if you never put her down," he admonished. "You're going to spoil her."

I took a bite of fish, shrugging. "Babies are meant to be spoiled," I answered. "Anyway, I don't think it will do her a bit of harm."

"Mmm," was my husband's skeptical reply. I made a face.

"I've had a call from Joan's solicitor," he changed the subject. "It looks like the farm officially belongs to us now…I'm going to have to hire someone to be the caretaker until we decide what we are going to do with it."

I raised my eyebrows at him. "I thought we decided that selling it would be the best thing," I said.

He sighed. "Yes, that would be the ideal decision," he agreed, "but we both know that the limited living space here in the surgery is becoming a problem already."

"Are you suggesting we move to the farm?" I asked, surprised.

He took a bite of his dinner and chewed thoughtfully. "Not necessarily. I wanted to hear your thoughts on the subject. I don't want to make any decisions without consulting you first…this concerns both of us now that we're married."

"Well," I said slowly, "there's certainly plenty of room there…Harper would have a bigger bedroom, and lots of outdoor space to play."

"Yes," he agreed.

"I would have more space to put a piano, and there would even be a place for you to have a proper office…but Martin, it's so far from the village…you would be on the road all the time, back and forth to the surgery and for emergency calls."

"Yes."

I sighed. "And it would be so much upkeep…we'd have to get rid of the animals, of course, but there is still so much land to take care of…" I shook my head.

"My thoughts exactly," Martin said.

"So we are in agreement that living at the farm isn't the solution to our space problem," I finished. He nodded.

"I will call an estate agent tomorrow and start the process of putting it up for sale," he said brusquely. He sat back in his chair, his brow furrowed. "That's one problem sorted."

I reached across the table and took his hand. "Are you sure you're okay with it?" I asked him. He looked at me blankly.

"Of course…why wouldn't I be?" he replied.

"Well, I know it must hold some sentimental value to you…you have fond memories of being there as a child," I said.

"Yes, I do…probably the only actual fond memories I have from my childhood." He took a drink of water and swallowed before he went on. "But I don't see that as any reason to hold on to the farm when it isn't the practical thing to do. I would much rather focus on our future as a family and finding a suitable house for us."

I smiled at him. "That's what I want, too," I told him sincerely. "I love the sound of that, actually."

He looked pleased. "Good. Then while I speak to the estate agent about the farm, I will let them know we are in the market for a new house as well."

"Preferably something in the village, or close to it," I added. "And it would be nice to have at least a small garden…and room for a piano. And now that I'm saying all this, it sounds like quite a tall order," I laughed.

"Well, we're not really in any hurry. We can take our time to find something that has all the amenities we are looking for," Martin said.

We cleaned up the kitchen together, and when everything was tidy again, I turned to him and put my arms around his neck, standing on tiptoe to kiss him. He pulled me close and cupped my cheek with his palm, and I hummed my approval against his lips.

"How did I manage to land a husband that's such a good kisser?" I commented when we broke apart.

"Oh, don't be silly," he grumbled, a blush creeping up his neck. I laughed and kissed him again, nipping playfully at his bottom lip. "And let's not start something we can't finish…it's not even been a week since you gave birth, you know."

I took his hand and pulled him toward the kitchen door. "Ah, but there's quite a lot of fun stuff we can still do…" I said suggestively. "Come upstairs with me and I'll show you…"


End file.
